


Endangered Pasts

by Tjwr



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Drama, Drama & Romance, Humor, Romance, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-11-26
Packaged: 2019-05-21 02:05:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 50,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14906345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tjwr/pseuds/Tjwr
Summary: When Boruto and Shikadai are approached by a mysterious, hooded man, they're sent 15 years into the past.





	1. Past

"Your parents at it again, huh?" the blond asked, following with a generous bite from his hamburger, then with a brief sip of his soda.

"Mm-hm," the teal-eyed boy responded as he ran a hand through his dark hair—tied back into the signature Nara ponytail, before lying down with his back against the surface of the train and hands cushioning his nape. "Dad's work has been overwhelming him lately. I don't even get to see him that often anymore."

"Weird. My dad's actually coming home  _more_  recently. Heck, he might even be home right now," said Boruto, lowering his head towards the straw for another sip. "He's been training me a little bit while Uncle Sasuke's away from the village. You think maybe that has something to do with it?"

"Maybe. And when we  _do_  get to see him, he's usually in a pretty bad mood. Mom had enough eventually and called him out on it, and they ended up having this huge argument. I've  _never_  seen him raise his voice at her like that. It even caught  _Mom_  off guard."

Shikadai stiffened suddenly. A pained look crept onto his face at the thought of the incident earlier.

* * *

"Shikamaru."

Nothing.

"Shikamaru!"

Not even a glance.

"Shikamaru  _look_  at me!"

He kissed his teeth and turned his head round just enough to see her teal eyes, narrowed and fueled with frustration. "I'm listening, woman. What d'you want?" 

She tightened her clenched fists. "What do I want? What do  _I_  want? I want a damn husband who'd come home, kiss his wife, and actually bother to ask her how her day was. Then, he'd go and check up on  _his son_  to see if he's working hard in his missions or needs any help with training, or hell, maybe even show him a new jutsu or something. Then, he'd have a nice little dinner with  _his family_ , have a bit fun and actually _smile_ for once. But no, what do I have instead? A husband who spends an absurd amount of time at that damn office of his, is utterly miserable by the time he gets home, doesn't even look up at his wife and son let alone entertain the idea of acknowledging them, before resting his ass again on the couch or bed."

"Yeah, well, this husband has been working his butt off to provide for both his family and his village, and would hope that maybe his wife would be a little more considerate of the fact that there's currently a shortage of staff at the office. Perhaps not a wife that'll nag endlessly after a difficult day's work."

"There it is again, trying to make  _me_  out to be the bad guy here. God forbid I want a husband that isn't a moody git, Shikamaru!" She inclined her head forward and heaved a long, inelegant sigh. "Look. I get it, Shikamaru. It isn't easy. I've done my fair share of paperwork for Gaara too, remember? And I get it, Naruto's been spending less time at the office to be there more for his family. But this has to stop. It's been going on for too long now; three weeks, almost. You're more concerned with helping out  _his_  family that you're now neglecting your own."

"Temari, please, just drop it already. I really don't want to have to deal with this right now."

"I give up. You see, Shikadai?" She placed both hands on her hips and looked back at the boy. "Don't say I didn't try. As always, your father is more concerned with shouldering other people's burdens that he fails to recognize the effect it has on him and everybody else around him. Fine," she said, turning back round to face Shikamaru, "I won't continue any further. If you want to spend all of your time being miserable at that damn office doing paperwork all day then so be it—"

" _ **You think I like suffocating myself with a bunch of paperwork?! Huh?!**_ "

Temari and Shikadai both took a step back without conscious thought.

"You think I don't notice how overworked I am?! How much time I spend at the office?! How little sleep I get?! How little time I spend with you guys?! How much it  _kills_  me?! But  _someone_  has to do it, Temari. They're vital, necessary, confidential paperwork; paperwork which could have detrimental effects on our village if put in the wrong hands. Someone _has_ to do it. And if you'd listen for  _once_  in your life, you'd know already that we're short on staff who are capable and qualified enough to handle it. But you  _don't_  ever listen, do you?" Shikamaru stood to his feet, fury in his eyes Shikadai hadn't ever seen from him. Skin a shade of red he hadn't ever seen from him. Veins bulging from his head and lips drawn back into a snarl he hadn't ever seen from him. "Because you  _always_  have to take the opportunity to be confrontational and unreasonable,  _don't you_?!"

She stood paralyzed as if caught by his clan's signature jutsu. Her mouth lowered involuntarily, air neither being drawn in nor released out through it. He had never yelled at her like that. He had never  _looked_  at her like that. Her brain couldn't arrange words together to form coherent sentences, and her vocal cords had decided to no longer function efficiently. She wanted something,  _anything_  to escape her parted lips; a sound; a scream; a cry. But nothing did. So she stood and maintained locked in a silent stare with crimson eyes, glaring at her as if she was this... this  _thing_ , as if she wasn't his wife, his  _lover_ , of so many years.

"I… I didn't leave Suna and my brothers for this!" she finally responded with, disheartened by the uncharacteristic stammering and ache in her voice.

"Then go back to Suna! Go back to your brothers! If it ends your insufferable nagging then pack your bags and just  _leave_  already!" he yelled without pause for breath, or concern for the saliva ejecting forcibly out his mouth, before gripping the door tight and sliding it shut as hard as he could.

It was only after the echos had settled did she finally register what he'd said. "F-fine then," she whispered with quivering lips, "if that's what you want, then maybe I will."

She abruptly turned around and stormed towards the door on the opposite end, a single tear parading on her eyelid before losing its balance and glistening her cheek.

"Mom?" Shikadai called with a hand steadily reaching out in her direction.

Temari shut the door with an intensity that rivaled his own, leaving the boy alone and with an unanswered embrace.

* * *

She hadn't meant it when she said she'd leave... did she? Surely his dad doesn't  _actually_  want her to go back, does he? If she'd truly meant it and left him, would he have to stay here in Konoha, or move to Suna and live with her and Uncle Gaara and Uncle Kankurō? Would he never get to see Dad again? Or Boruto, Inojin, Chōchō and the others? Would he have to start all over?

Shikadai sighed in frustration.  _Troublesome._

"Oi!" Boruto yelled out, disrupting Shikadai's thoughts. "Relax, will ya? I'm sure they'll kiss and make up soon and things will go back to how they use to be in no time. Don't stress over it too much."

He expressed a smile with every tooth on display, crumbs and grease from his meal still smeared across his mouth, prompting Shikadai to respond with a smile of his own, feeling the twinge of pain in him slowly plummet.

No, he couldn't start again. He couldn't leave his village behind. He couldn't leave his friends behind. Somehow, someway, he was going to fix this. He stared ahead, a solid look of determination in his eyes.

The train came to a slow halt, and sounds of footsteps once drowned out by the moving vehicle progressively became more audible. Noticing, Boruto whipped his head round. He distanced his eyelids into wide eyes before tugging on Shikadai's shoulder to get his attention. It wasn't often that somebody else would join the two here at the highest point of the train. Or rather, it was a first.

The figure looked sinister, draped in entirely black attire, with the only signs of color being the slight tear on his sleeve exposing his ghostly pale skin, and the lower half of his face, devoid completely of any facial hair. His impassive eyes were concealed by the hood of his cloak, difficult to see, but unquestionably driven by cold intentions.

Both Boruto and Shikadai immediately jumped to their feet and adjusted themselves into a fighting stance. The two consciously agreed to wait for the hooded man, no longer approaching and stood stiff as marble, to make  _his_  intentions clear  _first_.

"The son of the Seventh and the son of his advisor, hm?" he said, voice strained and gravelly. "I need a couple guinea pigs…"

Boruto cautiously neared his hand towards his kunai pouch and turned his head to Shikadai, firing at him an anxious stare. The figure briskly turned around and placed a scroll down, then turned back to face them again.

"…and you two will suffice."

Without warning, the scroll behind him combusted violently. Aggressive green flames were now present, and began rotating in a circular motion. He then brought their attention to another scroll balancing vertically on his hand, then threw it straight into the circulating flames, dissipating instantly on contact. With a single one-armed hand sign, he disappeared completely, leaving behind only a trail of smoke.

Almost immediately after his departure, the green flames began exhibiting strong gravitational forces, so strong that the soles of Shikadai's footwear were lifted off of the train's surface completely, hauling,  _dragging_  him towards the flames, up until a hand shackled around his own.

"Shikadai!" Boruto yelled. He penetrated the surface of the train deep with a kunai, anchoring him in position. "Hold on!"

But it was no use, the gravitational pull was just too vast, too immense, too  _overwhelming_. His hold on Shikadai continued to weaken more and more and more—until the hold broke free, and the two hands separated.

" _No_! Shikadai!" Boruto screamed, watching the green flames devour his close companion.

Dread, fear, disappointment, confusion, anger and a myriad of other thoughts all flooded Boruto's mind as he desperately tried to regulate his heart rate and reason that Shikadai was still alive. He  _ha_ _d_  to be. Dad! He needed to get to his dad  _right now_!

Boruto drew out another kunai with his other hand and began continuously piercing, removing and re-piercing the two kunais a further distance away, feeling the effects bearing down on him less as he steadily distanced himself more and more from the flames.

Who was that man? What did he want? What did he want with  _them_? His chaotic thoughts were interrupted by a loud horn, signalling that the train had resumed moving again.

The air resistance of the moving train coupled with the strong attractive forces of the flames proved to be too much for Boruto, and his hands could no longer hold to the two kunais. In an instant, Boruto was completely engulfed by the flames, too fast to even respond with an emotion. The flames abruptly stopped rotating and condensed itself into a small, glistening ball of light, then erupted into a large shock wave, leaving behind absolutely nothing.

* * *

Clouds obscuring pale, blue skies was what he first saw when he separated his eyelids. Now that he'd given it some thought, he'd never really taken an interest in cloud-watching like his dad had _._  Shikadai put a hand to his head, unsettled by the memories of parents.

No, that hadn't been the reason why his head hurt. He'd landed,  _hard_ , down onto the ground beneath him. Boruto, the mysterious man, the scroll, it was all coming back to him now. He sat himself up and glanced around at the familiar setting with curious eyes.

Outside of Konoha? _How the hell'd I end up here?_ Shikadai questioned to himself.

Just then, he felt a presence.

He was not alone.

Behind him stood a girl—no, a young woman. She wore four pigtails and an attire dominated by the color black, and on her back was a large block of iron; a tessen. With a raised eyebrow, slightly crooked lips and a hand above her hip, she stared at him with her bright, teal eyes.

"Oi, crybaby! What the hell are y—" She paused, studying the bright teal eyes now staring back at  _her_. "Wait, you're not…"

* * *

Boruto, however, wasn't as fortunate to have been greeted with a delightful view of the sky. No, instead, he was greeted by a dog, unusually familiar and currently fondling his face with its tongue.

He inwardly groaned. _You're one of Uncle Kiba's, aren't you?_  The dog let out a loud bark, prompting Boruto to lean back his head and wince in response.

"It isn't Naruto, Hinata, you can stop hiding already."

Boruto sat up after the dog had taken off, no longer violating his proximity, and stared ahead. In front of him, a figure slowly crept out from behind a large tree. A girl, shy and timid, and looked like had just completely lost her composure. Her cheeks donned a shade of red, bright and illuminating. She possessed long, violet hair, and pale eyes that belonged to a clan he was all too familiar with.

"N-no Kiba! I-I just, h-he just c-came out of nowhere, a-and I—"

"Yeah yeah, whatever, save it."

Boruto glared intently at the girl with wide blue eyes and a completely dumbfounded countenance. This action caused her to take a number of steps back behind the tree, fixing her gaze elsewhere.

* * *

Simultaneously, both Boruto and Shikadai yelled out in sheer and utter confusion:

"Mom?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first fanfiction! Hope you enjoy. :)
> 
> Some things I should probably mention. This occurs after the events of the Chūnin Exams for Boruto's year, so Boruto and Naruto are on good terms. For the old cast, the story takes place before the Kakuzu and Hidan arc, so Asuma's still around. The story will mainly focus on the interactions between Boruto and Shikadai and the old cast.


	2. Mom

Hinata took deep, eager breaths in hopes of recovering from her flustered composure thanks to the abrupt and unceremonious arrival of a child, and for also wrongly mistaking said child for a certain hyperactive ninja who too possessed blond spiky hair, whiskers and bright blue eyes. Similar eyes that were now staring at hers, and had raised eyebrows above them.

Then, a single word escaped his mouth. This word sending her entire body completely stiff, as if paralyzed and her muscles refused to respond to any of the signals being sent to them from her brain. This word even managing to keep her companions fixed in their positions and stare with jaws dropped and eyes wide open. This word being…

"Uh, kid, my hearing isn't exactly as good as my sense of smell, but I'm  _pretty_  sure I heard you call her  _Mom_  just now, right?"

Boruto turned his head to the familiar voice. He had short brown hair, two crimson triangular markings on his cheeks and fangs just noticeable if you squint long enough.

"You!" Boruto yelled, firing his hand out and pointing directly at his face. "You're Uncle Kiba!" 

Now  _his_  composure had been disturbed. "U-Uncle?!" 

Boruto maneuvered his arm so that his finger now targeted the giant, white-furred beast beside him. "And you're that mutt Akamaru!"

"Hey, watch your mouth! He's no mutt; that's my hound you're talking about!"

Akamaru also voiced his displeasure by letting out a menacing growl. Kiba stroked his head and reassured him that he hadn't meant it.

Boruto then aimed his finger at the person just to the right of the two. He wore a large sea-green jacket, of which the hood of was over his head. This, along with the dark sunglasses and high upturned collar all practically obscured most of his face.

"And you!" Boruto paused for a moment. "I… I don't know who you are."

Though he hadn't recognized the blond either, he still felt a little disappointed.

He turned back around to study the first face that had initially sparked his confusion. The haircut was noticeably different, or at least a lot longer, but her hair still maintained that same inky violet color. Her pale pupils immediately gave away her last name; they were unique to her clan, and were even eventually inherited by his younger sister. After seeing her face nearly everyday for most of his life, it was difficult to mistake it for anyone else's  _but_  his mom's.

Though, this… this complete lack of...  _confidence_ , this was  _very_  new to Boruto. She never really did exhibit an aura of confidence, like say, Aunt Sakura or Aunt Ino did, but she'd still have no problem putting her foot down and speaking her mind whenever she deemed necessary, nor would she be afraid to activate her Byakugan and position herself into the famous Hyūga stance if ever felt threatened. But struggling to maintain eye contact for an extended period of time, then immediately having to adjust her gaze elsewhere? The oversized clothing to better stand out less? The comfort found in hiding behind a tree?  _That_  was an unfamiliar sight. Very new, indeed.

Seeing as they all possessed the same names was all the necessary validation Boruto needed, and it hadn't taken him very long to recognize the reality of the situation.  _The guy at the train, huh…_

"This may take a little while to sink in for you guys," Boruto began following a lengthy inhalation, before exhaling and finishing off, "but I… am from the future."

Boruto stood as still as he could. His face appeared expressionless as he allowed the group to adjust to this new piece of information.

"Good lord kid, how hard  _did_ you land on your head?"

Sunglasses man took a few slow steps forward. "Mm. This could be a potentially fatal, life-ending head injury requiring immediate medical attention. So immediate that perhaps it is already too late, and the boy is far beyond the point of help, with just minutes left in this world. It's best to listen carefully to his final words an—"

"He's not dying, Shino," Kiba interrupted. "He's just got brain damage."

Boruto's neutral face slowly transitioned into one that conveyed disappointment and pure exasperation.

"There's nothing wrong with me! I'm telling you, I'm from the future! My name is Boruto, and  _she's_  my mom," he pleaded, pointing directly at Hinata's intensely red face. "I-I have a sister, Himawari, and… and… my—my dad! My dad's the seventh Hokage!"

At this, everyone had regained interest. Though they still had their doubts, their curiosity had at least spiked.

" _Your_  dad's the seventh Hokage?" Kiba asked with evident amusement on his face, still supposedly oblivious to the uncanny similarities. "So, tell me kid, who exactly  _is_  the Hokage in your little future?" 

Boruto turned to face Kiba once more, quirking the corner of his mouth into a smirk.

"Naruto U-zu-ma-ki!"

And with that, _Hinata's_  body was now the one that had crashed hard onto the ground.

* * *

"Wh-what did you just call me?!"

Shikadai winced a little. He maintained a bewildered stare, both at how the word had escaped his mouth so easily, and at the sight of the woman in front of him.

This woman… she was  _Mom_. But, she looked… so  _young_. Well, so much young _er_ , anyway. So much so that no amount of face-softening cream that advertisers insisted would "remove years from your age" could possibly be the reason as to why she looked like she'd taken not just a year or two or five or even  _ten_  years off of her life, but at least _fifteen years_!

Perhaps she was related to Mom? No, that didn't seem all that likely. He was sure he would've seen her at least once by now. Maybe her long-lost sister? No, that's absurd. She would never neglect her siblings like that, ever, and if they were separated at birth, she certainly would've found out about it by now. Mayb—

"Nara clan?"

"Huh?" Shikadai responded unintelligibly.

"You're from the Nara clan, aren't you?" she asked, extending her finger out. "That's the Nara clan's symbol, isn't it? I mean, the fact that you're practically a clone of a certain Nara that I know was a dead give-away itself. Honestly, you guys all look so much alike it's almost a little concerning."

He was speechless. She looked like her. _Sounded_ like her. Same dry and sarcastic tone laced into her words. Same little quirks and mannerisms. And yet Shikadai  _still_  couldn't grasp what was going on _—_ though, this only fueled his determination in wanting to solve this intricate puzzle.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Excuse me?"

"Your name. You have one, don't you?"

"Of course I have a name!" She stared with curiosity, wondering what his intentions were, before settling with telling him, "Temari."

 _Now_  he was at a complete loss, and if anything, this introduced even  _more_  questions. Though, judging from the look on her face, she probably had zero intention of answering them anyway. Troublesome, troublesome,  _troublesome_! What on earth was going on?! Suddenly, a thought flooded over him.

Boruto, mysterious hooded man, scroll.

_Of course._

"Hokage!" Shikadai yelled out, almost causing Temari to jolt where she stood. "Who's the current Hokage?!"

Her stoic demeanor was finally broken with a condescending laugh and she crossed her arms. "What… you're serious? You  _really_  don't know? You might look like him, but you certainly don't have his brains, kiddo. That or you've been living under a rock for three years." Her expression dimmed a bit, rather disappointed by his lack of response. "Lady Tsunade. Fifth Hokage, I believe."

And just like that, every unanswered question that he had was answered in that moment. Every uncertainty was made certain. The past. He was sent back into the past. Boruto, Inojin, nobody had been born yet.  _He_  hadn't even been born yet. No seventh Hokage. No  _sixth_  Hokage. No—

"You heading to Konoha?"

"Huh?"

"You need to stop doing that. You. Konoha. Yes or no," Temari said impatiently. Her arms were still crossed, but she was now tapping her right index finger against her left bicep.

"U-uh y-yeah—"

"Good, then get up. You'll be my escort until I see my actual escort at the gate. Though, in your condition, I'll probably be the one escorting  _you_."

She made her little desire to wait for him clear by setting off to complete the rest of her journey. Shikadai abruptly stood and dusted off his outfit, then pressed both hands against his nape, leaning back his head to stare up at the sky.

How? How was he going to get out of here? He knew he had to tell someone, but what if that just brought about negative consequences? What if that messes up the future? He'd never see his mom and dad again. He'd never see Boruto again, or Inojin and the others, he might not even end up not being born, an—

"Oh, and for the record," she began, her voice once again pulling him from his reverie, "I'll let that Mom comment slide just this once. Better not let it happen again," she continued, turning her eyes just enough to see him, allowing a playful smile to settle on her face.

Shikadai instinctively rubbed the back of his neck. "Sorry about that… you, uh… remind me so much of someone." Best to keep this whole thing a secret for now, he thought.

"Funny, because I was actually thinking the same about you," she said. Shikadai already had a bold idea of who she had in mind; he'd received one too many "Oh, you're so much like your father!" comments in his lifetime.

"Shikamaru," she said, not too surprisingly. "He's also from your clan. You know him?"

"I think I've heard of him. Never met, though."

"Ah, I see. Well, you'll see him soon enough. He'll be leaning against the gates, looking down and with his arms crossed, like always. He'll look like death, probably because he just woke up a couple minutes before he'd arrived there, the lazy bum. He'll look up and that stupid grin on his face will slowly form, and then he'll probably make some dumb comment about something. Actually, scratch that, he'll  _definitely_  make a dumb comment about something."

Probably not on good terms yet, then. Shikadai looked up to get a read on her expression, and was  _very_  surprised at what he saw, to put it simply. He was expecting her signature scowl, one that he was all too familiar with, like when he wouldn't do his homework and would instead be playing on his gaming device, or when he'd be slacking off during training and would take a nap behind a tree somewhere, or when his dad wasn't responding to her when she called his name repeatedly during  _that_  incident. But... she  _wasn't_  scowling this time. She didn't even look upset, either. Not at all. Instead, she was staring ahead in front of her and was…  _smiling_. It was a real, genuine smile. A smile Shikadai also recognized, and was one she'd only ever display to a small, select number of individuals, one that Shikadai himself had reservations for. She looked as if the excitement within her was growing by the second. Like she was anticipating something.

"I haven't been to Konoha in a little while…"

And something told Shikadai she couldn't wait any longer.


	3. Denial

"Damn it kid, are you happy now?! Look at what you've done!" Kiba yelled as he ran towards Hinata's unconscious body. "Now  _I've_  gotta deal with it!"

"Wh-what happened to her?!" a distraught Boruto asked as he neared the two cautiously.

"You've damn near killed her, that's what happened! It's bad enough you look so much like the twerp, but to then mention the twerp's name and insinuate that they get together and have  _you_? Do you  _want_  her to fall into a coma or something?" Kiba gripped onto her wrists, jolting slightly at the sweat and heat they were emitting. "Now grab a hold of her legs damn it and help me get her onto Akamaru's back. It's the least you can do right now."

Boruto did as told and wrapped his fingers around her ankles and on a count of 3, the two lifted her off the ground and gently rested her onto Akamaru, who lowered himself slightly as they approached.

"I-I didn't mean to… will she be alright?" Boruto asked almost whispering, his demeanor no longer that of a bold and confident boy, fear and worry instead taking priority.

Kiba eyed him carefully, then let a small sigh escape his mouth. "She'll be fine. She'll be out for a little while, but fine." This change of tone however hadn't lasted very long.

"I knew it. You  _are_  just a giant Naruto fanboy! I'll give it to ya kid, you almost got me there for a second, but you completely blew it with that last one," Kiba said, now seemingly more frustrated than amused. "You mean to tell me there's a future where  _I'm_  still around and  _he's_  the Hokage over  _me_? Pssh,  _yeah right_."

"There's a clear explanation for that, Kiba. You see, in this future, Naruto must clearly be a Hokage caliber ninja, whereas you Kiba, are not," Shino said, not having moved from his position or stance in quite a while.

"S-shut your mouth, Shino! Don't tell me you're actually falling for this kid's crap!" Kiba pouted and crossed his arms. "B-besides, no doubt I was at least in the running. Yeah, in fact, I was probably robbed of the title!"

"You seem to be convinced yourself now that the boy is telling the truth, Kiba."

"Convinced? More like pointing out the flaws in his little stunt. Naruto actually becoming Hokage? He's tough, I'll give the twerp that much, but that's a whole load of responsibility I frankly  _can't_  see him handling." Boruto's jaw tightened as Kiba continued, "What I  _am_  convinced of is that the twerp can't even read a scroll, nor can he sit still long enough in a meeting without passing out or start daydreaming about ramen, or something."

"Alright, that's _enough,"_  Boruto said with captivating finality, drawing everyone's attention. "Listen very carefully dog breath. I honestly couldn't give less of a damn whether or not you believe me anymore. If you think I'm just trying to pull some sort of stunt to cause a scene or something, by all means go ahead, have at it. But you're crossing the line with the way you're running your mouth about  _my_  dad. I might not know a whole lot about the Naruto of the past, but what I  _do_  know is that the future Naruto is  _very_  respected and  _very_  reliable; he's someone not just the Leaf, but  _all_  five nations can depend on. He's an excellent representative of our village and of a ninja. Don't you  _ever_  talk about him like that again, you hear?"

Kiba stood without moving a muscle, staring into narrowed eyes fueled with fury and revulsion. Though incredibly subtle, so subtle that all it'd take is a mistimed blink and you'd miss it, Boruto was just able to make out a slight nod from him.

"Good." The fire within his eyes extinguished almost immediately. His brows relaxed and the creases on his forehead were no longer present. "Now that we got that out of the way, let's figure out how I'll get back to my time."

"And... what exactly does this have to do with  _me_?"

"You're gonna help me. I can fill you in on everything I remember happening before I ended up here, and you can help, I don't know, sniff for clues nearby or something."

"Sniff for clues?  _Sniff for clues_? Do you hear yourself, brat? You think I'm just some sort of animal you can bark orders to whenever you want?" Kiba clenched his fists, desperately trying to repress his thriving anger.

"No, but he is," Boruto responded, pointing at the now offended Akamaru beside him. Growling could be heard, though it wasn't coming from the dog himself.

Kiba abruptly turned around and stormed towards the entry gate of the training field. Akamaru—with an unconscious Hinata still on his back—was now trailing behind.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" Boruto asked, desperation laced in every word.

" _We're_  gonna go look for daddy."

* * *

Temari's footsteps had sped up noticeably compared to before. What were once steady strides were now at a pace that demonstrated eagerness. Though she appeared content with being distracted by her thoughts, the silence between the two proved to be a little too uncomfortable for Shikadai.

He heaved a nervous cough. "So... how did you... meet this Shikamaru guy?"

Now it was Shikadai's voice that had interrupted  _her_  train of thought. She was stunned for a brief moment, almost as if she'd just remembered that she was being accompanied by someone. She looked back behind her, then quirked the corners of her lips.

"He was my opponent in the Chūnin Exams."

Okay, hold on a minute.  _This_  was new. He knew that his dad participated in the Chūnin Exams just once and managed to become a chūnin anyway—something he still had slight resentment against Boruto over, for cheating in their match and forever costing him the opportunity to duplicate such a feat. But to have also defeated a woman of Mom's caliber while doing so? Not to say that his dad was an easy opponent, certainly not. After all, a ninja who'd won the tournament in his first shot had to be pretty strong himself, right?

It's just that, having trained with his mom a lot in preparation for  _his_  Chūnin Exams, Shikadai recognized how difficult of an opponent she was,  _not once_  managing to capture her shadow with his clan's Shadow Possession Jutsu, even  _with_  the support of his teammates. She was stylistically a nightmare match-up for him, as if she had some sort of oath to herself to never be caught by it in battle.

This time it was Temari who'd taken the initiative. "I saw him perform in a preliminary match prior to ours. He did okay; nothing spectacular, and frankly it wasn't even nearly as impressive as  _my_  performance against some Leaf kunoichi. I was confident that I'd wipe the floor with him, so much so that I did little training in preparation for our match. First mistake on my part: underestimating my opponent."

He hadn't missed the slight twitch of her left eye, or the way her jaw tightened briefly.

"Soon enough it was time for our match. He'd landed hard and unceremoniously into the arena. Hell, I think he may have even been pushed in, actually." She chuckled briefly. "He didn't even bother getting up. Didn't even try. Knowing him, he probably found it comfortable laying there like that. Fine by me, if he wanted to just lie around on the ground all day, then he could do it unconscious. I charged at him, intending to finish the match as soon as possible. That was my second mistake: rushing in carelessly and not taking the time to assess the situation like he did."

She started chewing on her bottom lip. One of her tics for when she was agitated, he'd recognized. "Even with the limited range of his jutsu, he used all sorts of creative methods to make up for it, like using the lowering sun to extend his range and a parachute formed from his jacket to create an extra shadow. It was all in vain though despite everything; he just couldn't reach me. I was convinced that I was in the clear, and then  _boom_. Just like that. Not a single muscle in my body was in my control. The only movements I could make were the ones that imitated  _his_. He got me."

As subtle as it was, Shikadai still noticed the pained look that swept across her face and left the moment it was there. Something told him if  _she_  could go back in time, she would do things a little differently.

"How did he do it?" he asked. "Didn't you say it couldn't reach you?"

"Hah, worst part of it was, I  _still_  didn't even know how until he turned his head—that stupid god damn grin still plastered on his face might I add—and saw that he used the hole behind me, which was connected to the hole  _in front_  of me," she gestured with her hands, "and within his jutsu's range, both created from the fight just before ours. I just stood there, frozen. Both literally and figuratively. I'd never lost in a one-on-one fight up until that point, and yet here I was, slowly being dragged towards the center of the arena until we were just a couple meters apart, awaiting my punishment. He then slowly raised his hand..."

Shikadai was now completely immersed into the story. He was intrigued to find out how the match had ended, wondering what kind of powerful jutsu his dad finished her off with, hopefully one that he could teach him someday. Well, after he sorts out this future mess, that is.

"And then he quit the match."

"Eh?"

"He  _quit,_ " she repeated.

"He... quit?" His face now mirrored those in the stance after Shikamaru had muttered those exact words. Temari almost burst into a fit of laughter after a brief glance at Shikadai's facial expression, though her anger at the memories of the event had successfully managed to suppress it.

"He  _quit_! The bastard  _quit_  the match right then and there!"

"Y-you're serious?! Why the heck would he do that?!" Shikadai was now livid.  _Furious_. He had the match won! What could possibly be the reason as to why he'd decided that right then and there was an appropriate time to call it quits? Seriously, Dad?

"He said he was almost entirely out of chakra and had nothing left."

Well, that isn't so bad, Shikadai reasoned to himself.

" _Bullshit._ "

If only she knew what a terrible influence she was being right now.

"He was probably almost at his limit, sure, but he still had more than enough time to finish me off, and  _if_  he didn't, then he should've figured something else out with that giant brain of his. Quite frankly, he took the coward's way out. Always running away from his responsibilities, he is."

An awkward silence settled between the two. Shikadai wasn't quite sure what he was supposed to follow that with or even  _how_  to respond, and concluded that it was probably best to just wait it out instead.

Temari exhaled and allowed a long, relieving sigh to escape her, carrying away with it the tension and stress that fortified within her. "He has  _so_  much potential. It's just so infuriating seeing him waste it all away like this. He's a chūnin who  _should_  be a jōnin, but isn't, because he's lazy and complacent. He shouldn't be wasting his time escorting me around or helping me prepare for the Chūnin Exams, he could and  _should_  be doing so much more."

Shikadai assessed that a diversion in topic was in order; he really didn't want his dad to sustain verbal assault from his mom so soon after such a lengthy break from each other. "Is... that why you're here? To work on the Chūnin Exams with him?"

"Hm? Oh, no no. That isn't what I'm here for. It's nothing related to that. I just need to deliver some important documents to the Hokage."

Shikadai waited patiently for her to follow up with something, though it became progressively clear that she had no intention of doing so. "…That's it?"

"Mm-hm, that's it."

"You… walked all the way just to do that? Couldn't they send somebody else to do it?"

For once, she appeared to be caught off guard, as if she had to ponder on how to respond, much unlike her usual responses that were returned almost immediately. Nobody had ever really questioned why she so frequently attended Konoha, even though her involvement never really was necessary given the level of difficulty of the tasks. Any opportunity there was to make the journey to the village she'd take. Though she would never request for a mission situated in Konoha personally herself, her brother Gaara, the Kazekage, would always offer them to her first, knowing very well that she'd accept with little hesitation.

"I… thought it'd be best if I were the one to deliver them myself, to make sure these get to the Hokage safely. No use in sending an incapable chūnin who might end up losing these documents to the enemy in an ambush, or something." Temari appeared content with her response, though Shikadai had a feeling she wasn't being entirely honest.

Her interest in pursuing the conversation however wavered by the second, as the gate—now in sight—was fast approaching.

Aided by the slight squint of his eyes, Shikadai just about managed to make out a figure leaning against the gate; a young man, whose jet black hair was tied back into a ponytail, very much like his own. He wore the standard Konoha ninja gear, and his headband plate was stitched on at the side of his left sleeve, just below the deltoid. He was a near spitting image of Shikadai himself, though his face appeared far more mature, and his eyes lacked the pronounced teal pupils. His arms were crossed with minimal effort and his gaze on the earth beneath his footwear. He eventually looked up at the two approaching figures, slight bags under his eyes as if he'd just woken up from a nap. He stared at the four pig-tailed blond, then adjusted his lips into a "stupid" grin.

"Oi, about time you got here, woman."

And there's the dumb comment. _  
_

He then locked eyes with Shikadai.

* * *

"Weird. I was sure he'd be here by now."

Kiba eyed every region of the area carefully, subtly inhaling through his nose at irregular intervals. Shino stood in usual stance, hands within the confines of his pockets. Hinata was still very much unconscious on Akamaru's back. They all stood outside Ichiraku Ramen, a ramen restaurant, and the one spot the person they sought after so regularly visited.

The store was a lot smaller than Boruto remembered it. Business clearly hadn't taken off—yet.

"Hmph. How about that, guess not. Welp, I tried, later kid." Kiba turned his back to the boy and took a few eager steps forward.

"W-wait! Where are you going?!"

"Didn't you hear me before, kid? I'm not some animal you can bark orders to." Boruto raised a hand and opened his mouth to respond, but Kiba immediately jabbed a finger at Akamaru. "And neither is he!" Boruto retracted his hand and closed his mouth. "I tried and couldn't find him. You're on your own now, kid. See if you can convince someone else of your crap." Kiba waved his hand once half-heartedly as he continued setting off, his companions eventually following closely behind.

Boruto was at a complete and utter loss. He had  _no_  idea what he was going to do now.

He'd just been sent to a time period he was practically unfamiliar with, and there was no clear path to getting back. Despite his pleas and attempts, not one person had he managed to convince that he was in fact from the future. Shikadai was probably dead. The mysterious man was nowhere to be seen. His mom was passed out on a dog and would likely pass out at the sight of him again. His dad was—

"Aw  _come on_  Sakura! Let me take you out on a date just this once!"

Everyone froze in place and stood with stiff postures and straight backs.

"You  _know_  we're just destined to be together!"

That voice. It sounded far more high-pitched to what he was familiar with, but it was undeniably _his_ voice.

"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaasssse, Sakura!"

He looked back behind him, and a wave of relief flooded him like never before. Boruto recognized this person.

Distinct, bright blue eyes. Three equally-sized whiskers on each cheek. Blond hair that could be seen from almost a mile away. A blazing orange jumpsuit that  _should_  look ridiculous on someone his age, yet complimented him nicely. And on his face was a large, wide-mouthed, goofy smile he was all too familiar with, and could somehow always encourage him to imitate with a smile of his own. Oh, he recognized this person. Very much so.

"Dad!"


	4. Dad

"Oi, about time you got here, woman," he said, a low-effort smirk still intact on his face.

Shikadai desperately tried to suppress his grin. Dad. He was  _Dad_.

People would often tell Shikadai how unbearably lazy his dad once was, but he'd never really bought into it. His dad worked tirelessly, both as the Hokage's advisor and as a ninja, and though he'd throw in the usual comment of how troublesome the whole thing was, his dad still completed his tasks to the highest of standards anyway, and if ever summoned in cases of emergencies, he'd drop whatever it was he was doing and he'd be there in a heartbeat. How could a man like that possibly be so lazy once?

Now,  _this_ man? This man looked  _unquestionably_  lazy. He looked like he didn't do a whole lot besides sleep or lie around all day and stare up at the clouds, and it certainly didn't seem as if there was any emergency that would take priority over his sleep. He looked like someone who'd give up on a match despite having the upper hand, and would forge some lousy excuse as to why he couldn't pursue the fight any further. He looked... so care free. As if he had zero responsibilities to concern himself with, as if he could sleep his days away and face little repercussions. Hell, he looked like he  _had_  already slept his days away. It was almost as if he was an entirely different person to the Dad he was so accustomed to in the final few weeks leading up to _that_  incident.

Shikadai adjusted his gaze from his dad to the woman beside him, and that was when he'd noticed it again; the smile.  _The special smile_ , as Shikadai would call it. It might not appear significant to anybody that isn't too familiar with his mother, but Shikadai recognized what it meant for her to display such a smile. She'd have to tear down her barriers for just a short period of time—that stoic and tough demeanor she constantly maintains in front of everybody would be temporarily put aside, and in that limited time, Temari, Princess of the Sand and sister of the fifth Kazekage, would be… vulnerable. So few people in her life was she willing to present such a smile to. Her brothers, of course, and… well, that's all the list really comprised of, so far. Not even her closest companions were fortunate enough. In fact, it wasn't even too long ago that she had it kept hidden from even her brothers. But it appears this list had finally been extended to make room for just one more name.

_I see, so they must be seeing each other already…_

Shikadai then noticed that his dad's attention was now on  _him_. His raised eyebrow was complimented by a puzzled countenance.

Shikadai began experiencing discomfort in the form of sweat escaping the pores on his creased forehead. He was so concerned about not disclosing the truth to anyone that he hadn't even considered the possibility of  _somebody else_  figuring it out. And who better than the man whose effective strategic and problem-solving abilities had earned him a rank promotion in just a single round, a round he hadn't even won?

But surely that isn't likely? "The boy looks remarkably like myself, so he must be my son from the future." Who would ever theorize such an absurd thing? And yet, despite the desperate attempts to reassure himself, the longer his dad continued to stare at him, no,  _study_  him, the more and more it felt as though the inevitable was only being delayed.

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes. "Oi!"

Shikadai's breath caught and heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or several. He couldn't have figured it out. He _couldn't_. That's ridiculous, even for him. He hadn't even said or done anything yet! _How_?! How could his dad have gotten it just by looking at hi—

"Did she abduct you or something?"

_Wha…?_

"Sheesh Temari, you miss my very presence so much that you just had to take one of our own back with you to your village?" he teased, making the first move of the playful verbal sparring the two regularly engaged in. "One that looks awfully like me, might I add?" 

Oh. It looked like Shikadai was in the clear. For now, at least.

"Hah,  _please,_  don't flatter yourself," she responded, a devilish grin gracing her own lips. "You escaped my mind the moment I stepped foot outside the village, and frankly hadn't re-entered 'til I saw your silly mug just now." 

Shikadai had to restrain his eyes from rolling; he was all she talked about the entire way here.

"I saw him alone, passed out on the floor far from the village. Honestly, is that all you Nara  _boys_  ever do?" She had to stifle a chuckle at the twitch of his eye when emphasizing 'boys.'

"Besides, you guys  _all_  look the same," she said. "Even if I did take one of you away with me, which I didn't, it wouldn't be any trouble at all to find one that looks like you."

"First of all, not true," Shikamaru said.

"Is so."

"Secondly, passed out on the floor…? Woman, did you do something to him?"

"What? No! Don't put this on me, Nara, I didn't do anything," she said, though Shikamaru still seemed unconvinced. She turned to Shikadai. "Right? Tell him."

Shikadai was almost tempted to lie in order to draw a reaction out of the two; he so longed to interact with them playfully after weeks of strained and uncomfortable silence between his parents. He eventually concluded that it'd be best to remain inconspicuous and divert as much of the attention away from himself as he could _—_ as difficult as it'd probably be _—_ simply returning a single nod. Temari let out a triumphant  _hmph_.

"Yeah, well, try not to get on her bad side, or else she really will be the reason for you being passed out in the middle of nowhere. Believe me, I know."

"Don't worry kiddo, just don't be a lazy crybaby like  _him_ andI'll play nice," she said with a misleadingly comforting smile.

Oh, how he missed this. The playful insults. The smiles.  _Not_  insults with intentions to hurt the other, or tears streaming down cheeks. He almost forgot how much he'd missed this, of their unique relationship, and how it was perfect for  _them_. God, he was so tempted to just blurt out the truth right there and then hold them in a tight embrace.

Dad seemed... bothered. Frustrated, even. As if he was missing something and just couldn't put his finger on it.

"You look really familiar kid," he said. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

 _Yes_ _damn it, you_ do _know me from somewhere; I'm your son!_ "No, I don't think so," Shikadai responded calmly.

"Hmm. You sure? Feels like I've seen you around before. Do I know your parents?"

 _Aaaaargh! Yes,_ you're _one of them, and my troublesome mom is standing right there!_ "Probably not."

"I see. Hey, you heading back home by any chance right now?"

"Uh… yeah, sure, I... I guess," Shikadai responded, though, now that he thought about it, where exactly  _is_  home? If he hadn't solved this mess by the end of day, where would he intend on sleeping? What would he eat? Takeout? He only had a couple of bills and coins on him, and it was unlikely that they'd accept future currency with later dates on them. That in itself would give him away.

"Well, if you don't mind sticking around for a bit, after I drop off this troublesome woma—" Shikamaru paused momentarily to defend against Temari's raised fist, "I plan on going home myself and getting some shut-eye for a bit. I can drop you off, if you want."

This may be of benefit to Shikadai. He could take advantage of this and perhaps try to convince his dad if he could stay at his place, forging some excuse like how his "parents" were away on holiday somewhere, and that he'd lost the keys to the house and needed a place to crash until they got back, or something. Just long enough until he had this whole thing figured out and wouldn't have to sleep on a park bench or starve to death. Sounds like a plan. "Sure, I'm fine with that."

"Alright." He ushered Temari with his hand to take lead. "After you."

Temari gently pushed Shikamaru aside and began walking, swaying her hips with slight exaggeration.

Shikadai looked away in disgust, at his mom's obvious flirtatious act, and at how his dad wasn't even  _trying_  to hide the fact that he was staring.

As they furthered deeper into the core of the village, it became apparent to Shikadai that he couldn't recognize Konoha  _at all_. The difference was so drastic that it almost seemed like an entirely different village altogether. Everything was so… underdeveloped. Stalls over stores. Transportation around the village was limited to using your feet, unless you had other means by use of chakra. Where were the giant screen monitors? The radios? Nobody appeared to be using their phones, either. He also noticed there were only five faces carved onto the mountain, so far.

The journey to the Hokage's office had been relatively uneventful. Well, at least to Shikadai, anyway. The conversation was dominated by Shikamaru and Temari, as the two caught up on everything that'd happened in their lives since they last saw each other months ago, neither allowing silence to settle for even a moment. Shikadai stood a few meters behind, somewhat forgotten about. He was sure at one point he'd heard something about a team 10 barbecue meetup occurring later in the day.

"Ah, Temari. You're here."

The three had eventually made it to the office of the Hokage. It was quite reminiscent to the environment his dad and the Seventh spent most of their time; large stacks of paperwork were scattered everywhere, and it was difficult to see over them from a seated position. A hand emerged from behind one of these large stacks and pushed them aside, unveiling a woman sitting behind the desk.

Lady Tsunade, the fifth Hokage. He hadn't really seen her too often, only being around long enough to see the Sixth's and Seventh's reigns, but he had seen her at important events nonetheless. She looked like she hadn't aged a day though, which was quite odd. Or perhaps he was just misremembering? For the little time he had seen her however, she somewhat reminded him of Mom, a strong, terrifying woman who you should probably make extra effort for to ensure not to get on her bad side. Shikadai stood behind his parents, hoping that she wouldn't acknowledge his presence and bombard him with questions he wasn't sure how to answer just yet.

"I hope things weren't too difficult on the way here," Tsunade continued.

"Oh no, don't worry," Temari said. "I've already gotten accustomed to the three day journey. You don't have to worry about that."

"Actually, I'd meant hopefully your guide over here wasn't his usual difficult self when escorting you to the office," said Tsunade with a smug grin of her own.

A short chuckle escaped Temari, another welcoming sound Shikadai hadn't heard in a while. "He didn't do  _too_  badly of a job this time, I assure you."

Shikadai was sure he heard Dad mutter something like "troublesome women" under his breath.

"Alright, that's probably my cue to leave." Shikamaru turned and drew out a hand from his pocket, using it to grip her elbow. She almost jumped at the sudden contact. "I'll see you later?"

She slowly nodded her head, then gave him a tender smile. Both continued to stare at each other for what was probably longer than necessary.

Shikadai had to restrain a gag. They were both still so gross.

There was a sudden knock on the door, prompting Shikamaru to immediately remove the hold on her arm. Everyone in the room whipped their heads round to the door.

"Come in," Tsunade commanded.

The door began slowly creaking open…

* * *

The spunky blond and the rich, pink-haired kunoichi he was conversing with both turned their heads to the source of the noise.

"I finally found you, Dad!"

Naruto Uzumaki, soon to be seventh Hokage, as well as soon to be father of Boruto Uzumaki. It wasn't too long ago that the sight of his dad would bring about fury and grief he wasn't aware he could feel for someone that  _wasn't_  a threat to him or his friends and family. The repeated missed birthdays and continuous negligence affected Boruto more than he'd ever be willing to admit or let on. Not until the events after the Chūnin Exams had their relationship steadily improved and their bond strengthened. It also wasn't until then had Boruto recognized the importance of Naruto's role and how much more there was to him than just being the bossy old man that barked orders from his desk. He had his own unique story, and Boruto intended to have  _his_  own unique story, too.

Naruto alternated from looking at Boruto to looking behind him, unsure of who the younger blond was acknowledging.

"I'm talking to  _you_ , silly old man! Well, guess you're not so old right now," Boruto said, slowly approaching the still  _very_  bewildered Naruto. " _You're_  my dad!"

It was only then had Boruto noticed a terrifying, haunting figure nearing his dad. Its short hair was floating abnormally against gravity. Red blistering skin which looked as though could melt steel on contact. Indistinguishable raging fire in its eyes.

No, wait a second. It wasn't a monster; it was  _Aunt Sakura_. She was so flustered her skin was burning bright red, so much so that it rivaled her attire, and made her vibrant pink hair appear an even lighter shade in comparison. The fire in her eyes were so ferocious that it was now difficult to see the emerald green of her pupils. She struck Naruto with a chakra-infused fist, hurling him far and towards the floor beneath him. The ground had erupted violently, making a dent deep enough to be visible from space.

"Y-y-you _idiot_! Y-you can't even look after yourself and yet y-y-you're having  _kids_?! Why I outta—"

She simultaneously held him in a choke hold with one arm and repeated struck his dome with the other.

"W-wait! It's not like that, Aunt Sak—"

"Geez Forehead, do you always have to overdo it? A simple 'no' is enough, y'know?" said an approaching woman—another kunoichi. A blonde streak of hair covered half her face and her outfit was dominated by the color purple. Beside her was a more… bloated individual. He endlessly supplied his mouth with potato chips and showed no interest in stopping to take in air.

Boruto sighed in relief. Aunt Ino and Uncle Chōji! Thank God they were here to help!

Sakura dumped Naruto's lifeless body unceremoniously to the ground, her skin still illuminating.

"See that kid over there?" Sakura asked, pointing to Boruto. " _That's_  Naruto's  _son_.  _Naruto_  has a  _son_!"

"A  _s-s-s-son_?!" Now it was Ino's turn to get flustered. A potato chip had gotten caught in Chōji's throat, muffled cries for help barely escaping his mouth. Ino, who Boruto swore saw steam emitting from her ears, cracked her knuckles and walked towards the borderline unconscious Naruto. So much for help.

"No no  _no_ , it's  _not_  like that, Aunt Sakura! Aunt Ino! Naruto  _is_ my dad, but not in the way that you're thinking! He's my dad in the  _future_!  _I_  am from the future!" Boruto said in one cry, hopeful that no further damage would be done to Dad.

Everyone now eyed Boruto carefully. Even Chōji, having somewhat recovered from his coughing fit, engaged in the uncomfortable staredown.

"The… future?" Sakura asked eventually. Boruto nodded his head. He was optimistic that they'd be more receptive of the revelation than Mom's team was.

"Did… you land on your head or something?" Ino asked.

Guess not.

"Hah, that's what I thought," Kiba said. "Kid's been annoying the crap outta me all morning. Something about how he's from the future and how Naruto's his dad. He wouldn't get a clue and leave me alone, so I thought I'd give him what he wanted."

"Wh-why… d-didn't you… s-say anything s-sooner… K-Kiba?" Naruto asked with a slurred speech and swollen cheeks.

"Hm? Oh, I just wanted to see you get your ass kicked. Still very bitter about our match."

Naruto then shot up to his feet, so fast it was absurd given the severities of his injuries. His face was so close to Boruto's that he could feel the heat of his breath. "A  _son_?!  _My_  son?! From the  _future_?! That's  _so_  cool! Hey, what's your name, Son?!"

Boruto cleared his throat. "Uh, Boruto, Boruto Uzumaki," he responded with a forced, nervous smile, taking a few steps back until there was a comfortable distance between the two. It was odd seeing him so… passionate. There was more life in him than he had ever seen from his dad.  _Future_  Dad, that is. He was usually always so composed and collected, even during combat.

"Boruto! That's a great choice for a name! Hey, hey Boruto, am I like, a super power ninja in the future? Like can I, can I… um… destroy a thousand ninjas all at once by myself? O-or, do I know a bunch of super powerful rare jutsus? Or do I—" Naruto let out a dramatic gasp and gulped. "D-do I… become Hokage?" he asked, his tone calmer, almost… anxious.

Boruto swallowed nervously and projected a distraught face, which was surprisingly successful in drawing out every spirit in Dad's body, much to his petty amusement. Content with his reaction, he then slowly held up seven fingers.

"The Seventh," Boruto said with a teeth-baring smile.

Boruto witnessed his dad's face slowly light up and mouth gape animatedly. He slipped his pinky fingers into his ears, already taking the necessary precautions for the reaction that was to undoubtedly follow.

"YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!"

The scream was deafening—so deafening that he had managed to attract the attention of everyone within a 100 meter radius. Boruto questioned why he even bothered attempting to shield his ears.

"I knew it. I  _knew_  it. I-knew-it-I-knew-it-I-knew-it-I-knew-it-knew-it-I-knew-it. I  _knew_  I'd prove  _everyone_  wrong and become Hokage! I  _knew_  some day I'd have the whole village respecting me!" He let out a long, loud, howling laugh. Eventually, after he'd somewhat regained his composure, he looked to his left at the Ichiraku Ramen restaurant, reminiscing the conversation he had with his former academy teacher, Iruka Umino, a few years ago. "I… I told you I'd do it, Iruka Sensei," he said quietly to himself. He then directed his attention to his dog-like companion. " _Hah_! Suck it, Kiba," he said triumphantly, sticking his tongue out and lowering his bottom eyelid with a finger.

Kiba growled. "S-shut up, idiot! You don't  _actually_  believe him, do you?! Your  _son_  the  _time-traveler_? Are you kidding me? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard!"

"Y'know, I might have to agree with Kiba on this one, Naruto," Ino said. "I mean, he  _does_  look a lot like you, but the whole thing seems a little far-fetched, doesn't it?"

Both Naruto and Boruto frowned simultaneously.

"Boruto, was it?" Chōji asked, brushing his chip-stained fingers against his thigh. "Prove it. Prove to us right now that you're telling the truth. Prove to us that you  _are_  actually from the future."

Boruto placed a finger on his chin, contemplating how he'd go about doing that. "Alright." He raised both his hands towards his chest and performed a hand sign. "Multi-Shadow Clone Jutsu!"

Among the group now stood four identical Borutos, each possessing a pleased grin on their faces. "See? It's your favorite jutsu, isn't it?"

"Shadow clones? Anyone can do that jutsu. That doesn't prove a thing," Sakura said, unimpressed.

"Forehead's right," Ino said. "You're gonna have to give us something a lot better than that." 

Naruto gave him a look which expressed that he was in agreement with their sentiments. Boruto bit his lip and frowned.  _Alright, how about this…_

Boruto extended his arm out and uncurled his fingers. He then hovered his other hand over it, and a small, white, spiraling light began forming in the space between.

Naruto's lips parted. "Is that… the Rasengan?" he asked in astonishment.

Boruto responded by curling up the corner of his mouth.

Naruto however still seemed unconvinced, the excitement that fortified within him now toppling, gradually. "Konohamaru must've taught you… right? I mean, I taught it to him only recently… I guess he's already started taking students under his own wing?"

"No! I-I mean yes,  _he_  did, b-but he's also my sensei in the futur—"

"Well you guys, I think I've wasted enough time on this brat for today," said Kiba. "I knew it was a ruse all along. Gotta admit, I'm a little underwhelmed that  _this_  is how it all turned out. Maybe I did sorta hope it was the truth. Might have made the day a little more interesting. Oh well. Got better things to do, later." He raised his hand and gave a low-spirited wave.

Everyone but Naruto eventually followed suit, parting in different directions.

Naruto watched Boruto with eyes that were half-expectant, half-disappointed. Almost as if he  _wanted_  to be convinced by him that it was the truth. That his dream was already set in stone. That every blood, sweat and tear that'd escaped his body was all worth it in the end. Naruto's shoulders slumped slightly, his expression transitioning from hopeful to despondent. His body almost subconsciously shifted towards Ichiraku Ramen, taking one last quick glance at Boruto before continuing.

"N-no! Wait!  _Wait_! Dad! C'mon you guys, you  _have to_  believe me! Th-there was a man, he had a black cloak and a hood, and my friend was… there was a scroll, a-and then there was a green spinning thing, and now I'm here and I don't know how to get back! I need your help! Guys!  _Please_!" It was becoming more and more apparent that his desperate pleas were falling on deaf ears.  _Think, Boruto, think!_ If his own dad couldn't be convinced, then who could he possibly call for help?

Then,  _that person_ 's face interrupted his thoughts and flashed across his mind.

"Wait! I have one other thing! Look!"

Naruto stopped abruptly, though he didn't turn to face him. Boruto went to retrieve an item from the small bag strapped around his waist. Once he'd located it, with a firm grip, he pulled it out and ran towards Naruto, placing it right in his line of sight.

Naruto's mouth outspread involuntarily. His now wide eyes refused to blink. Boruto was sure his skin appeared vaguely paler than it was moments ago, making his blue eyes seem much more pronounced than they already were.

It was a Konoha headband, with a single, horizontal cut across the symbol on the plate.

Naruto appeared to be struggling to communicate, which seemed like a rarity to Boruto, even in the limited time he'd seen him in his younger, more energetic form. "How did… you get this?" he whispered.

"He gave it to me," Boruto responded, slightly uneasy at his sudden change in composure.

"…Who?"

"Uncle Sasuke, of course! Who else? It's his, isn't it?"

Boruto glanced up at Naruto, then at everybody else nearby.  _Everyone_  was frozen in place, as rigid as marble. Making eye contact with each person, he'd noticed they were all staring at him in… disbelief? Disorientation? Confusion?

"Wh… what? Why is everyone looking at me like that? Did… I say something wrong? Where is Uncle Sasuke, anyway?"

Naruto, having eventually broken from his reverie, turned to face Boruto completely. He was staring at him, observing him carefully. His demeanor was now one that had a greater resemblance to the man Boruto was more familiar with. "We're going to the Hokage's office.  _Now._ "

* * *

Everyone had decided to tag along, for some reason. What happened to having better things to do? The atmosphere was strained and oppressive, and everybody appeared disturbed, particularly his dad and Aunt Sakura. Even Uncle Chōji refused to continue indulging his potato chips. Was it… because of Uncle Sasuke? Did something happen to him? Was he okay? Dad was always was quite secretive of Uncle Sasuke's past and had never really said anything other than that he was his greatest rival. Boruto wasn't sure what was going on, or why exactly they were even heading to the Hokage's office. His initial assumption was that they'd finally agreed to help him, but it was clear something was off. Though, he knew better than to ask at a time like this.

Eventually, they'd all made it to the door of the office. Naruto tilted his head to the side, ushering Boruto to knock.

"Come in," a feminine voice commanded after he had done so.

Boruto securely clutched the handle and began rotating it—only then had he noticed that his hands were shaking. Once a click sound was identified, he pressed his other hand against the door and began shifting his weight onto it. The door scraped against the floor, making an unsettling noise as it opened.

The two then locked in a silent, unblinking stare.

* * *

"Boruto?!"

"Shikadai?!"


	5. Reunion

"Huh, who is it? Shikamaru? Why are you at the office so late? What's wrong?"

"It's Boruto and Shikadai. They're missing."

* * *

"Boruto?!"

"Shikadai?!"

Boruto ran with urgency towards Shikadai and wrapped his arms around him in a bear hug, squeezing hard enough to prompt Shikadai to grunt in irritation. "You're alive!"

"Shouldn't I be?" Shikadai questioned as he distanced his hands away from his sides to loosen Boruto's hold on him, enough to regulate his breathing again and to better vocalize his response.

Boruto released his grip and rested both palms onto Shikadai's shoulders. "I thought you died back then when you went through that green spinning thing at the train!"

"Oi, you went through it and survived, why wouldn't _I_  survive too?"

"Oh," Boruto said, rubbing the back of his head, "I didn't think about it like that."

"Oh man, Boruto, I'm so relieved to see you right now that just this once I'll let it slide, idiot." Now it was Shikadai's turn to squeeze Boruto in a hold. "You're dead if you tell Inojin and the others about this."

"Got it," Boruto said, returning the embrace.

"Boruto, we have to find that guy again and get out of here," Shikadai said, letting go. "We can't stay here for too long, it's too risky. We might acciden—"

"Oh my goodness, that boy looks  _exactly_  like Shikamaru! He's adorable! Shikamaru, is that _your_  son?"

Shikadai's heart skipped a beat. Or two. Or three. Or several. His chest tightened in an uncomfortable way the moment he noticed the large, familiar group at the door.

 _Is that… Aunt Ino? And… Uncle Chōji? Aunt Sakura, as well?_ Shikadai continued to scrutinize each and every person huddled by the door, as they all did the same to _him_.  _L-Lord_   _Seventh's here, too? Why's Boruto's mom sleeping on a dog?!_  Shikadai then gave Boruto a pained, distraught look, the extent of the situation gradually dawning on him.  _Boruto… please… don't tell me you…_

"What on earth are you talking about now, Ino?" Shikamaru groaned with an impassive expression, surprisingly oblivious to the situation.

"Hey Shikadai," Boruto said, turning to face Shikamaru, "you found your pops already!"

"B-Boruto! What the hell are you doing?!"

Shikadai snuck a brief, hesitant glance at his dad. He was being studied by him once more, but this time Shikadai was sure that he had sufficient enough information necessary to piece it all together now.

"Huh? What's it look like?" Boruto put a hand to his chin and maneuvered an eyebrow upwards. "Y'know, I think he looks better with the beard."

Shikadai gripped Boruto's arm tight and dragged him closer. "You t-told them?" he asked, a whisper clinging to hope.

"Of course I told them! Why do you ask? Hey, why are you looking at me like th—"

The noise of fist-to-mouth contact plus the thud of the uncomfortable landing were both effective in drowning out the gasps that circulated around the room.

"Oi! Wh… what the hell was that for?!" Boruto said, baffled and with a hand cupped around his mouth.

"Now  _this_  kid I like," Kiba said, amused at how non-threatening Boruto's death glare appeared with a swollen lip. "Give him another one!"

"You… you complete goddamn  _idiot_! Don't you understand what you've done?!" questioned Shikadai, ignoring Kiba's request. For now.

" _No_ , I  _don't_ , so maybe run it down with me  _first_ instead of socking me in the mouth, ass!"

"Don't you get it, Boruto?! Telling them will have negative consequences on the future! We might end up not even being born! How do you expect us to return to the future if  _our_  future isn't there anymore?!"

"Oh," Boruto croaked, visibly gulping, "I-I didn't think about it like that…"

Forget cheating in the Chūnin Exams,  _this_ was the most livid Shikadai had ever been at Boruto. Fury clouded his thoughts and blinded him. How could he be so careless! Costing him his opportunity of being promoted to chūnin he could get over. But costing him his opportunity of ever seeing his parents again? His friends again? He couldn't fathom how he could be so relieved to see someone to then be sick to the stomach at the sight of in such a short window of time. A swollen lip? Hah, try swollen eyelids. Or cheeks. Or face.

Shikadai grabbed the collar of Boruto's shirt and lifted him back to his feet, drilling cloth-wrapped nails hard into his palm to ensure no escape. With the other hand, Shikadai balled it up into a fist and dialed it back. Before he could proceed to make contact however, a hand shackled around his wrist, keeping the fist positioned mid-air.

"Alright, that's enough. Beating him senseless isn't going to solve anything," Shikamaru said, releasing his grip on the wrist as Shikadai reluctantly did his on Boruto's shirt. His gaze then drifted from Shikadai to the group surrounding the entrance. "Now, will somebody explain to me already what the hell's going on?"

"Yes, as nice as it is to see you all, I too would like to know why you're gathered at my office so early in the morning," Tsunade said. "Also, who on earth are those two?"

Boruto took a step forward, but a gentle tug on his sleeve prevented him from continuing any further. "B-Boruto," Shikadai whispered, voice wrought with concern. 

"Hey, I've blurted the truth out to everyone already and nothing's happened us yet," Boruto said. "I mean, that has to meaning something… right? What's one more person? She could  _help_  us."

Now that Shikadai put some thought to it, why  _had_  nothing happened to them yet? If their futures were to no longer exist, then surely  _they_  would cease to exist, too? Furthermore, how exactly would two genin go about solving this intricate puzzle all by themselves? Where would they even begin to start? With limited experience, resources and even knowledge on the situation, perhaps it'd be unwise to deny any form of support right now.

Shikadai took a step back and gave a slow, dubious nod. Boruto responded with a nod of his own, albeit one with more certainty. He then proceeded to take a few more steps forward, positioning himself closer to the powerful woman seated before him.

"Lady, this might be a little difficult for you to believe, but me and him… we're from the future." The two maintained locked in a silent stare. Boruto had the upmost confidence that Tsunade, fifth Hokage and current most dominant ninja in the village, would be more tolerant and accepting of this disclosure than a bunch of clueless chūnin.

"Did this boy fall on his head or something?"

Boruto was sure he heard Kiba sniggering to himself.

"No, he's telling the truth," Naruto said, now distancing himself from the crowd.

"Oh? Care to explain why that is, Naruto?" The amusement was very telling on Tsunade's face.

"Because he's my son."

Boruto wondered why everyone kept getting so red at that.

"Wh-wha, y-your  _son_?!"

"Yes."

"Th-that's  _ridiculous_ ," she said with a scoff. "You? Your son? Do you not hear yourself right now?!"

"He told me himself."

"What, and you  _believe_  him?! The boy's clearly having a laugh! They both are!"

"I know it's the truth."

"What on earth makes you so confident?"

Naruto slid his hand into his pocket and extracted an item from it, then placed it gently onto her desk.

"What's this?" Tsunade asked, picking it up and examining it closer.

"It's Sasuke's headband. He said Sasuke gave it to him in the future."

"S-Sasuke's?" She now recognized the severity of the situation if Naruto was willing to speak  _his_  name. "And how are you so sure it's his? It looks like any old regular headband with a cut across it to me."

"I've stared at his headband long enough to recognize every tear on the cloth and every dent on the plate. It's identical to the one I have."

"Then perhaps these two have been snooping around on your property," she suggested.

"No. It's locked away and hidden in some place only I know the location to."

"Then maybe the location isn't nearly as secure as you think it is."

"Nobody knows of the headband but me," he said. "It's just too outlandish to be a coincidence."

"And what, these kids being from the future  _isn't_?"

"It's the truth. I know it is. It  _has_  to be."

"Naruto, this is absurd, even for you. You can't just drop a faulty headband down onto my desk and expect me to be convinced of your little make-believe." Tsunade heaved an unwinding sigh. "You should be better than this. You should  _all_  be better than this. Now, I don't know what  _you two_  are trying to pull bu—"

"Lady, stop being so difficult," Boruto growled, cutting her off. "I'm telling you the truth, Uncle Sasuke gave it to me personally himself!"

He took a step back at her narrowed eyes and piercing gaze, regretful for forgetting how utterly terrifying she was.

"It's true, as difficult as it may be to believe," said Shikadai, stepping forward and making himself more discernible to her. "Believe me, as much as I wish this were a ruse, it isn't. We  _are_  from the future. We had an altercation with someone in  _our_  time period, and he used some sort of scroll to somehow manipulate time and send us back around twenty-ish or so years into the past. Neither of us know who the person is or what his intentions are or even _why_ we went sent to the past.

"The only thing I can really say with certainty is that Boruto over here is the future son of Naruto Uzumaki, and that I'm the future son of…"

Shikadai inhaled as hard as he could, then exhaled slow, having already made up his mind into fully committing to what he was about to do.

"...Shikamaru Nara."

An uncharacteristic, deep, hoarse sound escaped Shikamaru's mouth. "Wha…?"

"H-hey, Dad," Shikadai said, turning to face him. "I'm… I'm a little surprised you couldn't get it in the end." He nervously shrugged his shoulders.

Shikamaru couldn't formulate a single response. Even if he could, the words would've simply refused to escape his throat and out his mouth, anyway. All he could do was stare into teal eyes, mouth agape and lost in thought.

"I caaaaaaalled it!" Ino said gleefully, skipping towards Shikamaru and springing from the ground to cuddle him from behind. "He looks  _just_  like you! I can't believe our Shikamaru actually grows up and accepts some damn responsibility! Hey, what's your name?"

He stroked the back of his neck. "Uh, Shikadai… Shikadai Nara."

"Y'know," Chōji said as he approached Shikamaru, who startled at the sudden contact on his shoulder, "I remember you telling me about how you'd want to have a wife eventually, but the way you'd always ramble on and on about how difficult women were, I was beginning to think it would never happen! I really didn't think you had it in ya, buddy."

"I… didn't either," Shikamaru managed to respond with eventually.

" _So_ , who is it? Who's the lucky lady that stole Shikamaru's heart?" cooed Ino. Her eyes then widened in disbelief as a graceless shriek fled her lips. "Wait, it's not me, is it?! I should've seen it coming! In all the time we've spent together, how could he  _not_  end up falling for me?!"

Shikadai shook his head. "Um, no, it isn't you,  _Aunt_  Ino." 

"Oh… thank goodness," she said with a hand on her chest and relief on her face.

"Gee, thanks a lot, Ino. You do wonders for my ego," Shikamaru said, unamused.

"I mean, you're not all that bad, Shikamaru, but you're certainly not my type," she cleared up, waving him aside. "Besides, you're too much like a brother to me. Now then, if it isn't me, then who is it? Do we know her yet?"

"Doubt it, Shikamaru's always said he only ever wanted to marry an average woman. Probably just some random villager we haven't met yet," Chōji contributed. The expression on Shikamaru's face made him appear somewhat content with this, though, perhaps maybe even a little… underwhelmed?

"Ugh, that sounds so much like him it isn't even funny. How boring," Ino said as she crossed her arms and pouted.

"Actually… she's a kunoichi. I think you might know her, too. Dad already does, anyway," Shikadai said, peaking his father's interest. "She's… actually in this room, right now."

Once he'd eventually processed Shikadai's intimation, Shikamaru consciously listed every woman occupying the room in his thoughts and began narrowing down his choices of suitable partners. Ino? Confirmed not. Sakura? Troublesome. Lady Tsunade? Too old, too troublesome. Hinata? Not so troublesome, but unlikely; her heart's somewhere else. But before Shikamaru could evaluate the final female in the room, Shikadai had already begun advancing towards her.

"I… I know you told me not to call you Mom again… but now's a good as time as any, I guess... right?"

The tessen-wielding kunoichi stood still. Incredibly still. Though there was an obvious hint of disbelief in her, her demeanor, for the most part, was… calm. Almost as if she'd been expecting it, as if she'd already accepted it long ago. Shikamaru was convinced that his jaw had dislocated due to how his mouth refused to move from the gape it was in.

"T-T-Te-Te-Tem- _her_?!" Shikamaru's ears and the tip of his nose progressively clouded with a crimson color. Scratch that, his entire face was now equally a shade of red. "Okay guys,  _Ino_ , ha ha, very funny. I get it now. This is another one of your lousy attempts at playing match-maker, right? Well cut it out already. Because it's  _not_  funny,  _at all_."

Everyone stared at him in incredulity, particularly Shikadai. "I... I don't get it… what's wrong? I mean, you guysare dating, so it—"

"Eh?!" Shikamaru and Temari yelled in unison. Now  _both_  their faces were burning so bright that they practically illuminated the poorly-lit room.

"I  _knew_  it!" Naruto proudly extended his hand out to Sakura, who then begrudgingly placed a sum of money onto it.

"W-we are  _not_  d-dating!" Shikamaru insisted. "Wh-wh-what the hell makes you th-think that?! We, I-I mean, our relationship i-is  _purely_ platonic an—"

"Oh  _please_ , Shikamaru, your _son_  is standing right in front of you," Ino said. "At some point or another, you both had a little bit of  _fun_  with each other... maybe in that small little office you both always confine yourselves in, and right there on that round table near the windo—"

"I-Ino!" Temari yelped. Shikadai had never her seen skin don such a shade of red before.

"Oi, Ino, w-what the hell?!  _Shut up_!" Shikamaru screeched. "My son's listening!"

A smug grin developed on Ino's face.

" _Shut up_ ," he repeated.

"Oh my, I can't believe I didn't notice it sooner.  _Look_ ," she said, jabbing a finger at Shikadai, "his eyes are  _exactly_  like Temari's! He's got his mother's eyes! There's no way you can deny it now!"

She was right; there was no way he could deny it, and Shikamaru both recognized and accepted that. Saying they were near-identical wouldn't do it justice; they were a mirror image of her eyes. From the unique shade of her pupils, to the novel, almond-shaped outline that surrounded them. In the same way Naruto could recognize Sasuke's headband anywhere, Shikamaru could recognize those distinct, teal eyes anywhere. He'd always found himself observing them whenever the opportunity presented itself. One time, when preparing for the Chūnin Exams, he'd accidentally gotten lost in them and hadn't heard near five minutes of conversation. He always admired her eyes. Not that he'd ever tell her.

"Wait a minute, speaking of mothers, Naruto, who's the mother of  _your_ child?" Sakura asked.

"I told you already, didn't I, Sakura?" Naruto placed a hand on her cheek and began gently caressing it with his thumb. "You and I, we were meant to be together." His lips expected to meet hers, but were instead introduced to another chakra-infused fist, hauling his body across the room.

"You _idiot_ , he's already called me  _Aunt_  Sakura, so it obviously isn't me. Thankfully."

"Well, then… who is it?"

* * *

Hinata's dreams all usually followed the same formula—her close by Naruto's side, and they're mostly just talking for the entirety of it. It had never strayed far from that. But this one was slightly different. They had both aged considerably. Naruto's hair was shorter; a symbol of his growth in maturity, and the Hokage's cloak was draped around his shoulders. Running towards them were two young kids,  _their_  kids, she presumed. One was a boy, and though he adopted his father's more pronounced features, his face still resembled hers more. Beside him was her daughter, who had her violet hair but his blue eyes. She looked much more like her father.

Her dream faded to black eventually, much to her disappointment. Hinata slowly separated her eyelids and raised her head off of the white fur. Her vision corrected itself from the blur, the color palette increasing as it did so.

"So  _you're_  my wife, Hinata?"

Two pairs of blue eyes were now staring at her. One were from the person that had dominated her dreams so often that she was now struggling to differentiate which of her interactions with him were real and which of them weren't. His face was so close to hers that she could feel his breath gently stroking her lips. The other pair of eyes however were from someone she was sure was just a figment of her imagination. She was  _sure_  of it. Yet, there he stood, completely materialized and staring at her with the same look of confusion on his face as he had before. Hinata wasn't sure what was going on, but she could feel the blood rushing to her face.

She could also feel the blood rushing  _away_  from her brain.

Her head dropped to Akamaru's back so fast it'd seemed as though her neck could simply no longer support it.

"Argh, damn it, not again! _That's it_ , I've had it," Kiba growled, storming towards the door.

"Wh-what?! I thought she was finally waking up! What the hell happened?! Uncle Kiba? Uncle Kiba?! Hey, where ya going?!" Boruto asked.

"Stop calling me that, kid. It's weird. I'm not having Akamaru carry her around any longer. I'm gonna go look for Neji and hand her over to him. C'mon, Shino."

"Alright, now that you've addressed your future partners, could we  _please_  now focus back to the matter at hand?  _You_ ," Tsunade said, pointing to Boruto, "a man had involuntarily sent you two to the past using some sort of scroll, correct?"

"Yeah, that's right," he responded.

"If what you're saying is true, then this person must have some sort of motive, and I have a bad feeling he isn't doing this with good intentions."

"Our thoughts exactly."

"I'll send a couple of ANBU to collect the two of you later today to further answer some questions, and after that, we'll launch a full investigation. I'm inclined to believe what the two of you are saying is in fact the truth, seeing as you've somehow managed to convince everybody else. But, just know, if this  _is_  some little stunt, there will be  _severe_  consequences for your actions. Understood?"

Both Boruto and Shikadai nodded in agreement.

"Then you're free to go. Naruto, your...  _son_ , will be in your care, and Shikamaru, the same for yours."

Naruto beamed. "Alright!" 

Shikamaru blinked a number of times, dumbfounded. "W-wait, wh—"

"Perfect," Ino interrupted. "That means we can go get that barbecue now! Chōji, go get Asuma Sensei. Tell him it's urgent and that he'll need to join us a little earlier. Explain the situation to him so that  _we_  won't have to during the meal. I'd like to cover some...  _other_  topics with Shikadai. Now get him sooner so we can start eating sooner! Go!"

"I'm on it," Chōji said, running out through the door with an unusual burst of speed.

Shikamaru vigorously shook his head. "I thought that was later!"

"Yeah, well, I've rescheduled it," Ino quickly responded. "Oh, and uh, Mama Temari's coming, too."

"W-what did you c-call me?!" 

Shikadai took it back.  _This_  was the reddest he'd even seen her.

"I-I can't," Temari said. "I have a meeting with Lady Tsunade right now s—"

"Actually, I'm afraid that I'll also have to reschedule myself; the meeting will take place tomorrow now," Tsunade said. "I apologize, Temari, I understand you've traveled all the way here solely for this, but I'm afraid this entire revelation has thrown a wrench in the plans. In the meantime, you're free to do what you wish with your time here in Konoha. Perhaps a meal with your friends after a long journey would be good for you."

Shikadai was sure he saw the corners of the Hokage's lips quirk up slightly. He certainly knew that there was a complacent smirk on Ino's face, and that Mom probably wanted to wipe it off. With her tessen.

Temari looked at Shikamaru, hoping that he'd interject somehow, but he appeared mused in his own thoughts, his gaze fixed to his feet and  _refusing_  to meet hers. She sighed and ran a hand across her face, wiping away a layer of sweat she hadn't known was there, certain that she wasn't going to wriggle herself out of this one.

"Hey, I'm hungry too," Naruto said abruptly, running a hand over his stomach. "Boruto, let's go get some Ichiraku Ramen! You like ramen, don't you?" 

"Uh, not exactl—"

"Of course you do! Who doesn't like ramen?"

"R-right…"

"Hey, I'm tagging along, too," Sakura said, jumping towards the two. "I wanna know what's in store for  _my_  future, cha!" 

"Heck yeah, the more the better! C'mon, Boruto!"

"Uh, before that, don't you think we should maybe check up on Mom—"

"Nah, Neji'll take care of her, she'll be fine!"

"Who's Nej—"

"Aaaaaalright, let's gooooooooo!"


	6. Barbecue

"What do you mean you can't find them?"

"I can't get a sense of their chakras at all. It's almost as if… they've completely disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Naruto, that doesn't make any sense  _at all_. It's either they're far beyond your detectable range or they… th-they… they haven't been… killed… have they?"

"…"

"Naruto."

"…"

" _Naruto_!"

" _I don't know_! I… don't know, Shikamaru. I really don't know."

* * *

The four had all eventually made it to the barbecue restaurant Shikadai's dad and his team often gathered at, seating around a booth that was relatively secluded from all the others.

Shikamaru and Temari sat on opposite sides of the table and on the seats furthest to each other. Both were refusing to look in the other's general direction. Both were distancing themselves as much as possible from the other. Both were desperately trying to distract their minds with something,  _anything_  else than of the other. Both were failing miserably.

The four were eventually accompanied by Chōji, and a new but familiar face.

"Well how about that. I was convinced Chōji was just ribbing with me the entire time when he said that  _Naruto's_  and  _Shikamaru's_  future kids were running around causing a scene in the village—only so that he could start chowing down sooner. But, I didn't  _actually_  expect to see one in the flesh, I mean, I can barely tell the kid and his ol' man apart! So Shikamaru  _does_  really settle down eventually, huh? I never thought the day'd actually come!" He let out a great guffaw, exhaling one last meaningful breath of smoke, before pressing the cigarette bud against the surface of a nearby ashtray.

Shikamaru laid his chin down onto a palm and made little effort in hiding his irritation as he glared daggers towards the large man, only prompting him to let out another powerful howl.

"And with Temari of the Sand, no less! It wasn't too long ago the two of you were trying to tear each other's heads off at the Chūnin Exams! Well, Temari certainly was at least, anyway. I never would've imagined a relationship would boom from  _that_!" Another hearty laugh escaped his lips as he wiped away a misplaced tear. "I'm sorry you two, I'm done. I assure you. I'm glad you could join us here today," he said to Temari, after he'd somewhat composed himself. He then tucked his chin down and gave her a sincere nod.

Temari wanted nothing more than to launch herself over the table and wring his neck for the excessive laughing and making the already unbearably awkward situation even more unbearable, then to tear Ino's perfect hair out from her scalp for dragging her along and forcing her to endure this, and then to shove the remains of her hair down Shikamaru's throat for not saying anything. But she thought better of it. After all, she had to be an example to her son, as absurd and difficult as it was for her to comprehend. So she simply returned a nod.

"Shikadai, meet Asuma Sensei!"

"You shouldn't have to introduce me to him, Ino, if what he says  _is_ true, then I'm sure he's seen me plenty."

Except Shikadai hadn't seen him. At least not in person, that is. Not once. He'd only ever seen him in framed pictures like the ones in Asuma's daughter Mirai's house. And the most daunting thing was, his likeness looked remarkable similar to that in the pictures; the same black, spiky hair, the same strip of hair coating his jawline. Not a wrinkle less, or more. There was hardly a single thing that differed at all. Mirai had shown Shikadai a handful of pictures of Asuma during his genin days, but never any where he'd looked older than his current appearance. There was only a single, sensible conclusion Shikadai could draw.

_Asuma will die soon._

And there was yet  _another_  predicament. Does Shikadai tell him? Neither his father nor Mirai had even told him how he'd died. He was a shinobi, so being killed in action was the most reasonable assumption, but it is still just speculation nonetheless. Is  _now_ even an appropriate time to tell him? During an infrequent gathering where there's plenty of laughs and smiles? Is it even right to tinker with the future any more than he already had, and be essentially cheating death? But now Dad can see him once more. Kurenai can reunite with him. Mirai can finally meet him.

"You alright, kid? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

Shikadai snapped out of his trance, stiffening. "It's… it's just that… that… that you…" he visibly gulped with shut eyes, "…look so much like your daughter."

 _Maybe best to think it through properly first before spilling it,_ Shikadai thought.

"My d-daughter?" Asuma stammered.

"Hmph, guess _I'm_  not the only who settles down," Shikamaru said with a lopsided grin and a face no longer wrought with discomfort. 

Shikadai nodded. "Mirai, her name is. Mirai Sarutobi."

"Mirai?" Asuma's eyes further widened in realization. "Wait, s-so… you mean to tell me... the mother is—"

"Kurenai Sensei!" Chōji and Ino both yelled. Shikamaru also muttered her name in synchronization with the two, albeit with far less enthusiasm. Shikadai shrugged his shoulders in agreement.

A wave of red shot across Asuma's face. "H-h-how d-did you g-guys—"

"Gosh Sensei, you're such an open book," Chōji said, amused.

"Uh, a-anyway," Asuma nervously coughed, "that's enough about me." He then mouthed to Shikadai, "We'll talk later."

"So, Shikadai," he began, "if I've heard correctly from Chōji over here, you and Naruto's kid were both sent to the past by some creep with a scroll?"

"Sounds about right."

"And you know next to nothing about this person or why he did it?"

"Mm-hm."

"And you're pretty much stuck here indefinitely?"

Shikadai felt a wave of disappointment at the reminder. "Seems like it."

"I see." Asuma raised a perfectly cooked meat off the grill and placed it onto his empty plate, Shikadai's subtle reaction not going unnoticed to him. "The Ino-Shika-Chō tradition still going strong?"

Shikadai couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth. "Uh-huh. More so in bonds than in battle, but we're working on it," he said with a brisk chuckle.

He missed his teammates Inojin and Chōchō. A lot. He hadn't seen them much prior to the train altercation; his thoughts were too preoccupied with his parents. He missed the absurd yet thoughtful ways Chōchō would relate potato chips to just about any scenario. He missed opening ninja card packs with Inojin, the anticipation that was always present from the tear of the wrapper to the revelation of the card, and the cheers or frowns that then followed. He hadn't been in the past for very long, and it was already taking its toll on him.

Ino threw her body unexpectedly over the table and narrowed the distance between her face and Shikadai's. "Wait, is this 'Ino'  _mine_?"

Shikadai clenched his teeth and leaned back in response. "Yeah. His name's Inojin."

Ino inhaled with a shriek and smiled open-mouthed. "Sasuke and I have a son called Inojin?!"

"…Huh?"

"Sasuke and I get together, don't we? Naruto's kid _did_ say he was back in the village, so I assume he's settled down with the love of his life, right?" Ino said pointing to herself repeatedly.

"…I'm… I'm not following…"

Her expression gradually transitioned to one that conveyed disbelief. "You… mean he doesn't…? Wait, he… he's not actually into…  _guys_ , like Shikamaru and Chōji always say he is… is he?"

Shikadai gave a mocking laugh, eyes shut and head inclined forward. "No, he isn't. He has a daughter. Just… with Aunt Sakura."

"F-Forehead?!" Ino yelled, exasperated, startling everyone at the booth. "Are you kidding me?! How the hell does  _she_  get him in the end?! He's practically sleeping with a man with that chest of hers!" Ino sat back down onto her seat and crossed her arms. An enlarged vein made itself more discernible on the side of her forehead. "Then who the heck is  _my_  husband?!"

"U-um, I haven't seen him around here yet. Does a guy named Sai ring any bel—"

"S-Sai?!  _Him_?" Ino yelled again, prompting Shikadai to jump once more, then quickly follow with a frantic nod. The tension on Ino's face eventually eased, and she puckered her lips. " _Actually_ , he's pretty cute. Looks sorta like Sasuke, too. Disappointed it's not the real deal, but, whatever. I can live with that. Just glad it isn't one of these two fools."

Shikamaru responded with a scowl. Chōji appeared unfazed by the comment. That or the meal had already eased his pain.

"Once again Shikamaru, I just don't see you in that way. Besides, I have no intention of making a man out of your lazy butt. That's Mama Temari's job," Ino said with a wink, nudging Temari with her elbow.

" _Stop_  calling me that," Temari said, the tinge of red on her cheeks betraying her menacing frown.

" _Any_ who," Ino cleverly diverted, "and I'm guessing this 'Chō' is Chōji's?" Chōji paused briefly from chewing and stared at the boy.

Shikadai shook his head up and down. "Yeah, she's yours. You remind me a lot of her, actually. She's got your hunger," he began, the words escaping Shikadai before he'd properly given it some thought, a trait he blamed his mother for inheriting. This prompted Chōji's eyebrow to raise, as if gesturing him to continue. "And, uh… drive," he continued, looking away. Chōji shrugged and went back to his meal as Asuma and Ino quietly sniggered to themselves. Shikadai eased from his stiff posture and let out a nervous cough. "Her uh, name's Chōchō."

"Chōchō?" Chōji gulped down all of the meat that occupied his mouth. "Hey, that's a really nice name."  

"It's a really  _lazy_  name," Ino immediately followed. "You could've put anything else at the end of 'Chō' and you put another 'chō' right after it? What, did you ask Shikamaru to come up with it or something?" Shikamaru fired at her another scowl, one that depicted even less patience for her than the one before. Temari was playing slightly with the meat on her plate; her appetite frankly wasn't present, but even she couldn't help but let a wry smile slip.

"…Aren't… aren't you gonna ask who your wife is, Uncle Chōji?" Shikadai asked after a slight lull in the conversation.

"Hm? Not really, all I want for a wife is a pretty woman that knows how to cook!" Chōji effortlessly piled together five pieces of meat and cushioned them down onto his tongue.

"Chōji, there's a lot more to a woman than her ability to cook you dinner, you know," Asuma clarified.

"Yes, absolutely Sensei! Breakfast and lunch are equally as important, too," Chōji continued with a mouthful of meat. Ino rolled her eyes with exaggeration. Asuma shook his head as he stifled a laugh.

" _So_ , Shikadai," Ino said mischievously, slowly sliding her arm around Temari's shoulder. "What exactly is it about our Shikamaru that softens Temari up so much?"

"Ino," Temari said in a dark tone, setting her chopsticks down onto the table.

"What? It's true. It always feels like I'm interrupting something anytime I approach the two of you hanging out. Which is  _a lot_ , by the way. And don't try to play up that 'it's just work' crap, I'm pretty sure lying down with him in the fields isn't part of your job requirement."

" _Ino_." Red flashed in front of her eyes. She took slow breaths through her nose, trying desperately to control herself and loosen her clenched fist.

"What, you hiding something?"

That was the last voice Temari expected to hear.

"Excuse me?" she followed, now eyeing Shikamaru with curiosity.

"I mean… don't you… y'know, wanna know why you left your village… for me, and stuff," he said, looking elsewhere, anywhere else from her gaze.

 _That_  was a thought that completely escaped her mind.  _She_  had left the village she was born and raised in, its difficult conditions she'd spent a lifetime getting adapted to.  _She_  had left her brothers behind, disregarding the oath she'd made to herself to forever stand by their sides and protect with her life.  _She_  left it all… for him? Some chūnin from another village? Sure, he was excellent company, and was one of the few she could have both an intelligent and intimate conversation with. Sure, he had an absurd amount of untapped potential that she'd taken it upon herself to ensure he takes full advantage of and doesn't squander. Sure, the way he'd stare intently into her eyes or the accidental physical contact the two would occasionally make with each other would make her heart skip a couple of times and her knees buckle slightly. But this? This was a sacrifice she couldn't fathom ever making. And yet  _she_  did.

Once again, she found herself simply returning a nod.

Perhaps this could be a good thing, Shikadai thought, intrigued at the opportunity of playing matchmaker. He was frankly sick of the tension between his parents, past  _or_ future.

"He's… he's loyal. He'd never abandon his friends and family, and he'd rather give his own life away than for his comrades to get hurt. He's hard-working, too."

Temari scoffed. "Could've fooled me." Shikamaru rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath.

Shikadai chuckled a little. "He might not seem like it now, but in the future, he works tirelessly as the Hokage's advisor. Sometimes, even a little  _too_  hard."

"Oh? Hokage's advisor, huh? Very fitting of Shikamaru actually, now that I think about it," Asuma said.

Shikamaru balked slightly, unsure what possessed him to take up such a troublesome job. He'd rather not spend all his time with the overly-energetic Naruto.

"Okay, now what is it about  _Temari_  that makes Shikamaru actually shows some damn interest in a woman?" Ino asked. Shikamaru stiffened in his seat. "Troublesome woman this, troublesome woman that. My mom's a witch! Tsunade's out to get me! Ino's gorgeous but annoying! Waaaaah! It was driving me  _crazy_! But I would've thought Temari of all women would be the last person he'd ever want to settle down with. So what is it?"

Shikamaru raised both his hands up as if to surrender. "Alright Ino, first off, don't flatter yourself, secondly, I think we've had enough fun for toda—"

"No. I want to hear this," Temari said, cutting him off.

Shikamaru blinked repeatedly at her in confusion. "Huh?"

"What,  _hiding_  something?" she mockingly asked.

"Haven't we been embarrassed enough already, woman?"

Temari uncrossed her arms and threw her head back. " _Hah_. Nice try.  _I've_  been embarrassed enough already.  _You've_  got some catching up to do." She waved her hand, gesturing Shikadai to proceed.

"Shikadai, as your father, I command you  _not_  to continue."

"And as your mother, I command you  _to_  continue."

"Troublesome mother."

"Lazy ass, crybaby fathe—"

"Her smile."

Everyone turned their heads and directed their attention to the boy.

"It was after I was scolded by Mom for not finishing breakfast, or something like that. I asked Dad what it was exactly he saw in her, and he responded with something along the lines of, 'Even she has her moments when she smiles gently.'"

Shikamaru's mouth was agape in disbelief. The conversation was far too familiar.

"I didn't really get it at the time, but… I guess seeing her smile must make him feel happy."

If not for the sizzling meat on the grill, a pin drop would have been audible.

"Shikamaru… that's so beautiful," Ino said eventually. She sniffed, then stroked away an imaginary tear. "When did you get so romantic? Ugh, Sai better be like this!"

Temari lowered her head. She couldn't help but wear a grin on her face and had to bite her lip down to prevent it from transitioning into a teeth-baring smile.

Shikamaru pushed his plate forward and stood without warning. He shoved both hands in his pockets and began walking towards the door of the restaurant.

"Shikamaru? Where are you going?" Ino questioned, shifting her body round. "You can't just leave!" 

"Hey, you heading off already? C'mon Shikamaru, we're only having a bit of fun. You just gonna leave your kid here?" Asuma asked.

Shikadai stared ahead, utterly bewildered. Did... did he say something wrong? No, he couldn't have. He  _couldn't_  have. Every word had been carefully selected. Every potential outcome had already been thought of, and storming out the place was certainly  _not_  one of them. He was sure, positive,  _confident_  that it would work, so what on earth was the reason  _now_?!  _Gah,_   _troublesome parents!_

"D-Dad?" he pleaded, a final, desperate attempt clinging on to hope. But it was in vain.

Temari furrowed her brows at the lack of response. She abruptly stood and turned round to face his curved back. "What, you just gonna run away from your responsibilities again, Shikamaru? Huh? Is that it?"

Shikamaru froze.

He wanted to respond. He did. He wanted to turn around. He wanted to return to the booth and he wanted to sit back down in his seat. He wanted to prove her wrong.

But he didn't. He didn't do any of that. He caved. He caved and he opened the door to the restaurant and he walked right out without sparing a glance.

Temari continued to stare at where he once stood. A myriad of thoughts flooded her mind: frustration, appall, irritation. But what dominated most was _hurt_... and disappointment. Ino raised a hand and neared it towards Temari's shoulder in an effort to comfort her, but it was quickly swatted aside before contact had been made. She then marched in the direction of the door, escaping the restaurant without sparing a glance herself.

The entire affair was reminiscent of  _that_  incident, and though Shikadai was in the presence of others this time, he felt just as alone and helpless as he did then.


	7. Ramen

"I have  _two_  kids?!"

The journey to Ichiraku Ramen had been… expeditious, to say the least. Once they'd been excused from the Hokage's office, Naruto had decided to take Tsunade's order of keeping Boruto in his care in the literal sense. He curled his fingers around Boruto's wrist, applying such a force to the compression that numbness had begun settling in Boruto's hand.

You had a better chance of escaping shackles than you did this wrist-spraining hold.

As they ran through large crowds of villagers and jumped across rooftops to shorten the distance, the grip had never loosened. At one point, Boruto had completely lost his footing and was quite literally being dragged by his father. Not even a breathless Sakura screaming profanities and threatening Naruto of bodily harm if he didn't slow down had managed to get him to lower his pace. Though it did certainly succeed in getting scowls from nearby passengers.

Once they'd eventually made it to the ramen stand, and a strike from Sakura to Naruto's head later, the three seated onto consecutive stools, with Naruto sitting to Boruto's left and Sakura to his right. Naruto had insisted that he pay for their meals, and proceeded to order two regular-sized bowls of ramen for the two, and a large bowl for himself.

"Yup, her name's Himawari."

Naruto's pupils were entirely visible now. "That. Is. So.  _Cool_!" he said, bouncing on his seat at every word. He grabbed a hold of Boruto's head and pushed it down so that it was no longer obscuring his view of the pink-haired kunoichi. "Sakura, did you hear that?!  _I_  have a daughter!"

"Yes, Naruto, I heard," said Sakura, tapping her finger against the surface of the stand.

" _And_  I have a son!"

"I'm aware." The tapping increased in frequency.

" _And_  I'm the Hokage!"

The tapping reduced to one violent collision of her fist against the surface, denting it slightly. " _Idiot_ , stop repeating everything! I was there with you the entire time!"

"Um, mind letting go of my head now?"

* * *

Three bowls of ramen were eventually placed in front of them. After an unnecessarily lengthy whiff of the broth, Naruto voiced his satisfaction with a content sigh. He began dressing his chopsticks with the soaked noodles, then transported it to his mouth, slurping loud and until each strip was entirely consumed. He showed little concern for spillages or for the disgusted looks from his companions.

"So Naruto, who's the kid you brought along with ya?" asked Teuchi, owner of Ichiraku Ramen, as he dried off his hands with a towel before draping it over his shoulder. He then rested both his palms against the edge of the stand and shifted his weight onto them. "I ain't never seen him before. Your cousin, I'm guessin'?"

"Not quite!" Naruto said through a mouthful of ramen. He roped his arm around Boruto's neck and hauled him towards his chest, ruffling his hair with the other arm. "He's my son!"

Teuchi released his grips on the stand and took a few steps back in response. "Eh?!"

Sakura shook her head and raised a hand. "It's a long story." She gave him a look that made it seem as though she had zero desire in explaining it, either.

"Um, right. Uh… well, congratulations! Ah, h-have a bowl on the house!"

Naruto shot his head up fast and with little concern for whiplash. "R-really?!  _Wow_! Alright!" Now no longer savoring every mouthful, he began emptying out the contents of the bowl down his throat as quickly as possible, providing  _just_  enough space to allow air through. "Gosh, I should have kids more often!"

Sakura's chopsticks stopped halfway to her mouth, before eventually being lowered back down to her bowl.

Boruto took a bite of the ramen every so often, slurping with less enthusiasm compared to his father. There was one thing, or rather, one  _person_  who'd kept distracting his thoughts. It was the reason why he was so disinterested in engaging in a conversation with the two. It was the reason why he showed so little resistance when being dragged around by the arm across the village by his dad. He couldn't stop thinking about it. He couldn't stop thinking about the looks in everyone's eyes when he spoke his name. He couldn't stop thinking about  _where_  he was. He couldn't stop thinking about if he was okay.

"Hey guys… where's Uncle Sasuke?" asked Boruto, eyeing the two carefully to gauge their reaction.

And there it was again, just like before. The sudden demeanor changes. The stiffening postures. The wide eyes. The lowering heads. The pained looks of defeat and failure. Boruto recognized that something was  _very_ wrong, and that no one was being entirely honest about the situation.

"…Well?" he followed impatiently.

Naruto swirled the contents of his bowl with his chopsticks. "Did… did I not tell you in the future?" he asked without looking at him. Boruto shook his head and hummed a noise expressing 'no.' A brief moment of silence later, Naruto raised his head, and in his best efforts attempted a smile that mimicked his others. "Aaaahhh, it's nothin'. Don't worry about it! It's really not importa—"

Boruto cut him off with a strong grasp of his wrist, rivaling the one Naruto gave him prior. " _Tell me_."

The two locked in a stare, both pairs of blue eyes expressing entirely different emotions. Eventually, the pair infused with concern and anxiety had heavy lids fall over them. Naruto turned his head and lowered it in defeat. "He… he left the village."

"…That's… it? Uncle Sasuke does that all the time."

"It's probably a little different to that," said Sakura. She appeared particularly more troubled than Naruto did. Her emerald eyes lacked the spark that was usually present; they were lifeless and seemed as though were staring directly into a void. "He's… classified as a missing-nin right now."

Boruto froze.  _He's… he's a missing-nin?_  That wasn't something he'd been expecting at all. "But…  _why_?"

"Because… of power. He wants more power."

"More power? What for? From  _where_?"

If there was a question that could've further permeated the room with worry, then that was it.

"Orochimaru."

 _That name…_ Boruto stared up at the ceiling and thought hard.  _Why does it sound so familiar? Was he an opponent? No… I don't think that's it. I'm sure I would've remembered if that were the case. Damn it Boruto, think…_

* * *

_"It would be nice if you could show my parent some respect, too. He's called Orochimaru."_

* * *

_Oh!_

Boruto fired out an index finger. "Hey, I've heard of him! He's my teammate Mitsuki's parent!"

Both Naruto and Sakura dropped their chopsticks into their bowls and slowly turned their heads to face him.

"What?" asked Boruto as he watched the two spare concerned glances at each other, before turning to look back at him. The sparks seemingly reignited in their eyes, and for what felt like almost forever, there appeared to be some semblance of life within them.

" _Orochimaru_  has a  _kid_?!" the two yelled in unison, prompting Boruto to wince slightly and lean back in response. If the atmosphere wasn't so strained, he may have even contemplated letting a laugh escape him at the absurd faces they were pulling. Whoever this Orochimaru was, the prospect of him having a child invoked a much more dumbstruck response than when he'd revealed himself to be Naruto's future son, for whatever reason.

"Is, um, Orochimaru… y'know, the mom or the dad?" asked Sakura, unsure if she even wanted it answered.

"Hm? That doesn't really matter right now. You forgot to answer my previous question by the way, Dad.  _Why_  does he want power—or more of it, exactly?"

Naruto shook his head as if to brush off the disturbing thoughts, substituting them for ones entirely different, but equally as disturbing. "Uh right, anyway. Have you… heard of the massacre of the Uchiha clan?"

"A little bit. It was never really covered in class, but something about the whole clan being wiped out by someone, right?"

"Not just someone." Naruto's shoulders and chest raised as he breathed in heavily, made much more pronounced due to his stiff posture. "His brother. Sasuke's brother."

"H-… his…  _brother_?" It felt as if something was lodged in his throat as Boruto tried to speak.

"His brother… killed everyone." Boruto's mouth lowered as if the weight of his jaw grew heavier. "His mom. His dad. Aunts… uncles… cousins… you name it. Not a single one left of his clan 'cept those two. Sasuke's gone to get more power so that… well, so that he's the only one left. If… if you get what I mean. He wants to avenge his clan."

Boruto couldn't formulate a response. He couldn't. Not through words, nor through action. All he could do was stare with eyes involuntarily widened.

It made so much sense now. Why Uncle Sasuke always seemed so distant. Why he always maintained a stoic demeanor and no-nonsense attitude. Why he always came across as someone who was trying to… recover.  _Everyone_  he had ever loved was taken from him. And by someone who he must've also loved and had a deep respect for, no less. Boruto was no stranger to the feeling of losing a parent—or rather, the feeling of  _almost_  having lost a parent. He thought he'd lost his dad forever during the events of the Chūnin Exams, and  _that_  alone was enough to invoke an unbearable feeling of anguish and heartache. He couldn't fathom losing Mom, too. And Himawari. And the rest of his friends and family.

But Uncle Sasuke did. He had to. It was a cruel, blunt reality for him. A nightmare that could never be woken from. A scar permanently engraved onto him. Could you really blame the guy for losing his cool and going AWOL?

"But… he comes back… right?" asked Naruto, disrupting Boruto from his reverie. "He… he gets his revenge and he comes back to the village, doesn't he? Like, in the future?"

Just like before when he'd asked Boruto if he becomes the Hokage in the future, Naruto eyed him with an expression dominated by anxiety and concern. But this time, hope was now incorporated into it.

Boruto arranged his hand into a thumbs-up stance, and his mouth formed a smile such that every tooth was now on display. The two studied him, taking a moment to interpret his wordless response. Naruto eventually straightened out his back from its slouching position, as if a giant load had been taken off his shoulders. The creases between his brows softened as if were ironed out, and he subconsciously found himself mirroring the smile on Boruto's face. The tension in Sakura's face had eased too, and even she found herself delivering a warm smile of her own. The three resumed eating their meals in a comfortable silence.

"Hey, is there a reason why Sasuke leaves the village and then later comes back?" Naruto asked.

"I'm not really sure. He hasn't ever  _really_  told me why. Something about looking for stuff only he can find," said Boruto. Naruto shook his head.

Boruto then raised a hand to his chin. "As for why he comes back… hmmm… well, it is his home, I guess. And I know he really cares about Konoha and wants to protect it. Sometimes he trains with his daughter, too." The two dropped their chopsticks into their bowls, again. "Oh, that's right! He's also my sensei, so I train with him a lot whenever he's around. Um, no offense, Dad."

Sakura rotated her body so that she completely faced him. "Did… you just say…  _Sasuke_ … has a daughter?" she warily asked, not even bothering to spare another concerned glance at Naruto. No, she  _wanted_  an answer this time, and only one person could give it to her right now.

"Huh? Yeah. Didn't I say that before? I could've sworn I did. Well, anyway, Sarada Uchiha, also a teammate. Wants to be Hokage just like you, Dad. Y'know, I almost sorta miss her. Wonder what she's doing right no—"

She cut him off by resting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in slightly, invading his proximity. " _Who_  does he have a daughter with?"

"Hm?  _You_. Duh."

Suddenly, the reaction to Orchimaru's kid hadn't seemed all that bad. Certainly not compared to this, anyway. He wonderedhow long they were going to keep staring at him like that, far too use to the lengthy stares and dropped jaws by now to allow discomfort to settle again. The two appeared to be having trouble coming into terms with this, surprisingly more than anything he'd already revealed prior. Particularly…

"W-wow, Sakura. I'm… I'm really happy for you," Naruto said quietly. The pained look that swept across his face as he lowered his eyes back down to his bowl hadn't gone unnoticed to Boruto, provoking him to furrow his brow a little. "I… I know that's what you've always really wanted."

Sakura was too overwhelmed by her thoughts to be able to give any sort of acknowledgement. Her unmoving silence was beginning to be a concern. It was almost as if she was experiencing a number of conflicting emotions, and somehow they were all canceling each other out, leaving just an expressionless vessel. As if her spirit wasn't there in the room with them.

"Hey guys, I'm… I'm gonna call it an early night. I… need some time to myself right now," she said as she stood, her voice without tone or passion. She adjusting her clothes slightly, and turned to make an exit. The clatter of her shoes as it struck the earth beneath them lowered gradually in volume until it was no longer present.

Silence settled again. But certainly not one that was comfortable. Now an entirely different thought distracted Boruto's mind, and would undoubtedly bother him for the entirety of his stay here if he hadn't acknowledged it as soon as possible _._

"Hey, Dad?" he said as he turned to face the sulking individual. "What the hell are you doing?"

Naruto went still, then looked up at him. "Huh? What d'you mean?"

" _That_!" Boruto yelled, jabbing a finger in his direction. He abruptly pushed off of his seat and stood up. "Those damn puppy eyes of yours!"

Naruto maneuvered his gaze away from Boruto's, now staring off somewhere into the distance. "I… I-I don't know what you're t—"

"From the moment I saw you all the way up until now you've been drooling all over Aunt Sakura!  _Why_? I don't get it! What about  _Mom_?" Boruto said without pause for breath. Naruto's eyes widened momentarily, then lowered back down. "Have you completely forgotten about her? Oh. That's right. It's because every single time I bring her up, you keep changing the subject somehow!  _Why_? What for?"

Boruto waved his hand in front of him, gesturing him to give a response. And the lack of it only prompted a tighter jaw. "Well? Say  _something_!"

Still nothing.

Boruto pulled his lips back into a snarl.  _Fine then, stupid old man._ He turned to face the sheets obscuring the entrance and pushed them aside with unnecessary force.

"H-hey, wait," Naruto said, chasing after him, "Boruto! Where are you going?!" 

"Mom's house to check up on her," he answered. "You hear that? Mom's house.  _Mom's_. Not Aunt Sakura's." Naruto took a step forward to intervene, but stayed put at the raised hand. "And  _don't_  bother following me. Not until you drop this weird ass, one-sided obsession you have for her."

"B-but, you can't just leave! Granny Tsunade said you're supposed to be in my care!"

"I can look after myself, Dad. I don't need you holding my hand wherever I go. Or dragging me by the wrist. I'm like, 90% sure something's wrong with it, by the way. Anyway, feel free to stop by when you  _do_  eventually start paying attention to what's in front of you.  _Bye_."

Boruto concentrated his chakra to his feet and burst off from the ground, landing onto a nearby building. He began sprinting, hoping that maybe, against his wishes, his dad would follow.

* * *

When Boruto said he was heading to Mom's house, he may or may not have neglected the fact that he had absolutely no idea  _where_  it actually was. So he walked; he walked as the skies transitioned for orange to blue, hoping that he'd eventually bump into somebody, _anybody_ that he recognized, and could direct him towards the correct path. Until then, he busied his thoughts with his dad and how much of a stupid,  _stupid_  old man he is. Constantly chasing after a girl so much inferior to Mom in every way. Strength, beauty, you name it. Mom has her beat. So what gives?

But... then again, Mom's so… well… so  _un_ -Mom-like. She doesn't exactly come across as strong with the way she keeps losing her consciousness all the time. And she can't exactly show off that pretty face of hers if she keeps covering it up with her hands like that. Perhaps he was a little too harsh on his dad _._  Boruto shook his head as if to remove the apologetic thoughts from them. No, this was good. It will at least help him to consider his feelings for her sooner, he concluded. He hoped. Until then, he and his mom had some work to do.

"We meet again, Boruto."

Boruto jumped at the unexpected voice. All those times he'd been told by Aburame Sensei, his former academy teacher, to stay alert and maintain focus at all times, and yet here he was, so consumed by his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed the person he'd strolled right past, leaning against the tree. He wore a large sea-green jacket, of which the hood of was over his head. This, along with the dark sunglasses and high upturned collar all almost compl—

Wait a minute, wasn't he that guy from before? With Mom and Uncle Kiba? The heck was he doing just standing like that, this late?

"Hey it's... you… from before…" Boruto said, watching sunglasses man with caution as he took a step forward.

"You seemed to have remembered my comrades right away, Boruto. Everyone except for me, of course. You see, I was hoping to find out the cause for this. Perhaps my engagements in the future do not allow me to commit enough time into seeing you. Or perhaps my bonds with your mother and father aren't as strong as I had assumed was, and that we don't see each other often in the future, resulting in you not recognizing me due to little interaction. Or perhaps—"

That... that weird way that he talks, it's so... familiar...

Boruto snapped his fingers in realization. "Hey!  _You're_  Aburame Sensei!"

"I see. So you finally have remembered. You should never forget a person's face, Boruto, especially that of your teacher's. Why? Because it could possibly hurt their feelings."

"Well how's anyone suppose to recognize you if you've got your face hidden away like that?!" Boruto frantically shook his head, a comforting thought slowly dawning on him. "Never mind all that. Do you know where Mom's place is?"

"Though, perhaps it is my fault. I must not have been captivating enough in my role as your teacher to have engraved myself into your thoughts, so I only have myself to blame. An excellent teacher, for example, would have had his students engaging in a number of fun activities. Perhaps my methods weren't as effective, since—"

 _Wh… what the heck is talking about now?_  Boruto compressed the bridge of his nose with one hand and placed the other on his hip. His attention plummeted fast and his eyes wondered over to his surroundings, sorta like it did when he still attended Aburame Sensei's classes. He stared ahead at the large field to his left, absently scanning the wide setting, and eventually caught sight of a figure lying down against the grass beside a large, towering tree. It was difficult; he had to exert a ridiculous amount of effort into narrowing his eyes, but he could just about make out the person's pineapple hairdo sticking out of the green blades.

Wait a second. Pineapple hairdo?

… _Shidakai?_

He turned on his heels and marched towards the field.

"—and I was clearly not successful in that regard. It was unfair to have burdened you with guilt when it is I who had failed you as your teacher. So Boruto, I would like to take this opportunity to apologize for—"

Shino looked up, only just noticing the absence of his future student.

"…I'm glad no one is here to witness me cry."

* * *

"Your parents at it again, huh?" Boruto asked as he neared, hopeful that he hadn't just spoken to someone who was asleep.

Shikadai gave a half-hearted smile, no longer concerned about the approaching footsteps. "Just can't escape this conversation, can I?"

Boruto chuckled as he sat beside him, holding his folded knees in place with his arms. Shikadai sat up and reclined against the large tree, recollecting everything that'd happened earlier with his parents.

"...And it backfired completely. They both just stormed out the place, and I have no idea where either of them are right now. Safe to say they forgot that I don't have anywhere to go."

Boruto placed a hand on Shikadai's shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. "Well, lucky I found you then. I'm heading to Mom's place; you can tag along."

"Thanks."

"One problem, though."

"Oh?"

"I don't know where it is."

Shikadai snorted. "Well, you're completely useless." Boruto clutched his heart in mock hurt.

"Y'know, you don't have it  _that_  bad. At least your stupid old man isn't chasing after some other girl."

"Aunt Sakura?"

Boruto quickly turned his head round to face him. "Yeah! How did you know?"

"Didn't he try to kiss her when we were at the Hokage's office?"

Boruto held his neck with both his hands and made an exaggerated gagging sound. " _Don't_  remind me."

The two fell into a fit of laughter until tears moistened their eyes and pain was induced in their stomachs. It was a welcoming noise neither had heard in quite a while.

Shikadai breathed heavily to maintain his composure, still clutching his sides as the pain eased. "Hey Boruto?"

"Yeah?"

"You... you think we'll ever get back to our time?"

"…I don't know," Boruto said pressing his eye with a thumb, brushing away the wetness that distorted his vision. "I miss my little sister."

"I miss Inojin and Chōchō."

"Me too. I wonder what Mitsuki's doing right now."

"Probably looking  _everywhere_  for you."

"I guess so. Promise you won't tell anyone?"

Shikadai raised both his hands as if to surrender. "I couldn't even if I wanted to. But sure."

"I sorta miss Sarada."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Just a little bit."

"Damn, Boruto. Didn't think things were  _this_  rough for you if you were willing to admit even that."

"Tell me about it."

Shikadai tugged on the blades of grass. "I just hope future Mom hasn't left future Dad already. I should've been there to talk her out of it, or something. This whole thing just couldn't have happened at a worse-er time."

"You think our future's still there?"

"I... don't know." Shikadai released the blades in his hold, letting the wind carry them away.

Boruto stared absently at them, eyeing an individual blade of grass as it spun in the air, finding himself slowly falling into a trance. The blade began to elongate in length and thicken in width, gradually transitioning into a cylindrical shape, until it resembled... a scroll?

* * *

He then brought their attention to another scroll balancing vertically on his hand, then threw it straight into the circulating flames, dissipating instantly on contact.

* * *

Boruto stood to his feet and flailed his arms around in excitement. "That's it, Shikadai! Don't you remember?"

"Boruto, I'm pretty sure I would've said something by now if I did."

"The guy at the train, right before he disappeared! He  _threw_  something into the flames, remember?"

Shikadai brought a hand to chin. "I… don't quite remember something like that…"

"In his hands, he was holding onto some sort of—"

"Scroll?"

Boruto snapped his fingers. "Yeah!"

"Uh… Boruto…"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't say that."

The two turned their heads leisurely to the unusually familiar voice. Shikadai jumped to his feet, desperately trying to fight off the light-headed feeling from the sudden movement. Both drew kunais from their pouches, refusing to fall victim to patience this time.

They were not alone.

The figure looked sinister, draped in entirely black attire, with the only signs of color being the slight tear on his sleeve exposing his ghostly pale skin, and the lower half of his face, devoid completely of any facial hair. His impassive eyes were concealed by the hood of his cloak, difficult to see, but unquestionably driven by cold intentions.

Standing before them, was the mysterious, hooded man.


	8. Return

"Boruto!"

"On it!"

There he stood. It was difficult to see him; the sun had long drifted away and every star was obscured by clouds. But he was there.

The god damn, mysterious, hooded man.

Since their last altercation, both Boruto and Shikadai had recognized that standing around doing nothing again would be the very definition of insanity. Allowing  _him_  to make  _his_  intentions clear first? Not a chance this time. A major adjustment needed to be made to their approach, and as two young, combat-hungry ninjas, a decision wasn't all that difficult to reach.

Strike  _fast_  and strike  _hard_.

As if instinctively, Boruto raised his hands to form the familiar hand-sign produced often both by himself and his dad in battle. His fingers—barring the index and the middle which were maintained extended—curled into the palm of his left hand. As his right hand attempted to mimic the pose however, a wince coupled with a pained shriek escaped him. It was only then had Boruto noticed his swollen wrist.

 _Damn it, I knew something was up! Stupid old man!_  Boruto shook off the distracting thoughts. There was no time for this! Their escape route from this mayhem was right in front of them, and like hell was a little swelling going to let it slip away. With a deep inhalation, a bloated chest and a sudden adrenaline-surge, Boruto completed the stance.

"Shadow Clone Jutsu!"

Four identical Boruto clones accompanied the two, each possessing matching scowls.

Now it was Shikadai who'd produced the signature hand-sign he and _his_  dad often had. "Shadow Possession Jutsu!" A strip of black fired from underneath him and darted towards the cloaked man.

And in what was a surprising turn of events, their shadows were linked. Shadow Possession Jutsu: success.

...In his first attempt.

The shadow connecting the two maintained a linear shape. At no point did he divert the spear in another direction; it wasn't necessary at all. The man hadn't even  _tried_  to parry or evade. No hesitant step back. Not even a flinch. Something wasn't adding up.

"Good stuff, Shikadai!  _My_  turn!" Both the Boruto clones and the original all launched themselves from the ground with a battle cry.

"Wait, Boruto!" yelled Shikadai, jabbing a hand out in his direction.

But his plea was drowned out by the inarticulate roar of the clones. The intention was to restrain him for questioning later. So, what better way to go about doing that than with a crushing blow to the skull, shutting his lights off and knocking him unconscious?

Each clone balled a fist and drew it back. It was his left hand, the slight weaker of the two, but considering the condition his other hand was in, it'd have to do for now. It wouldn't be a one-hit finisher, but three more follow-ups should do the trick.

He was nearing closer and closer. Poor bastard just stood there, unable to move a single muscle. Boruto wished that his face hadn't been so obscured by the cloak, just to see the look of hopelessness and pure defeat on his face. He briefly wondering if he was a screamer, or an easy-bleeder. He was about to find out; the man was finally in range. He fired out his fist, targeting right for his face.

The satisfying bone-crushing sound wasn't audible. He certainly didn't feel any contact, either. And all he could see was… grass?

Green and brown smeared onto his face as it uncomfortably skid across the ground. He groaned in pain, then turned his head cheek-down to spit the dirt out of his mouth.

He  _missed_? What the hell? No, there was zero chance of that being a possibility; he was being restrained by Shikadai's jutsu for goodness sake. Boruto shifted himself to all fours and turned his head round.  _Every_  Boruto clone had managed to miss the mark somehow, each of their expressions transitioning from fury to surprise as they landed awkwardly back onto the ground.

He went  _through_  him?

Boruto stood to his feet and dusted himself off, adjusting his clothes slightly. "A fake?" he asked, puzzled.

Shikadai retracted his shadow and straightening his legs. His thoughts slowly began piecing everything together. So _that's_ why he was so overly calm about the whole thing.

Boruto undid his jutsu and walked towards the projection, waving his hand through it a number of times as frustration slowly settled in. "Damn it. Now the guy's playing mind games with us now."

"Am I?" The hooded man broke from his stiff stance and spun without warning, striking Boruto's gut with the heel of his footwear and launching him far across field.

"Boruto!" Shikadai yelled. He drew a kunai from his pouch, gave it a single twirl around the ring then held the hilt tight. The longer they were exposed to him, the more and more complicated he seemed. He  _materialized_?

"Damn it bastard, what the hell do you want with us?!"

" _Me_?" the same gravelly, hoarse voice spoke. He slowly turned to face Shikadai; head first, and then his entire body. "I just wanted to talk."

Shikadai pulled his lips back into a snarl. "Talk?  _Talk_? This is the most you've ever spoken and now all you wanna do is just  _talk_? About what?"

"I have a deal to propose."

Shikadai gave him a quizzical look. " _What_?"

"A deal. You help me, and I give you what you want."

An imperious howl threatened to escape his lips. "And what exactly is that?"

"You want to go back… don't you? Back to your friends. Back to your  _family_."

Shikadai's grip on the kunai loosened. He stood frozen as if _he_  had been caught by his own jutsu.

"Back? The fact that our cover's been blown should've drastically changed the future already. It shouldn't even  _be_  a possibility anymore."

He could almost hear him smirking. "You still haven't figured it out, have you? I had assumed the son of Nara would have gotten it by now."

Shikadai stood there, stupefied. He didn't even want to bother expending energy into making any sense of it. The only thing that flooded his mind was…  _home_. Going back home. Its warmth and familiar comfort. Eating dinner with Mom. Playing shogi with Dad. Meeting up with Inojin, Chōchō and Moegi Sensei the next day to do a basic D-rank mission and then being rewarded with barbecue right after. Coming back home to see his parents laying down on the porch with fingers intertwined.

A strained laugh disrupted his thoughts and captured _both_  their attentions. Boruto slowly stood with arms grasping trembling knees. "You bastard… you—" a hoarse cough interrupted him, blood fleeing from his throat and splattering across his chin, "…you send us out here, against our will… and y-… you think we're just gonna trust  _you_? No deal."

"Oh? But you haven't even heard what I had to say yet. And how do you intend on returning without my aid?"

Boruto brushed the trail of blood away with the back of his hand. "You won't have a choice after I'm done."

Boruto held out his faulty arm and began channeling chakra to his hand, fighting off the wince that begged to be projected, eventually forming a spiraling white ball of light—the Rasengan. The hooded man burst forward with absurd speed, grabbing the swollen wrist with a grip that rivaled the one his dad had on it earlier and detonating the Rasengan in his hand. Boruto let out a distraught cry as the man then spun the wrist round a hundred and eighty degrees, prompting Boruto's knees to buckle slightly, then immediately grabbed his neck with other arm, briefly lifting him off the ground and slamming him onto it, causing a violent, devastating eruption.

"You're much too like your father… brash, short-tempered," he said as Boruto struggled in hold, flailing his legs about and swinging desperately at his face, only just reaching short. "You  _do_  before you  _think_ … and now it's costed you your life."

"Wait!"

The hooded man leaned his head back.

"Wait. This deal of yours. We'll hear what you have to say." Shikadai dropped the kunai and held his hands up in defeat. "Just let go of him."

"D-don't… t-… trust… him… Shi-…!" Boruto stammered through clenched teeth, unable to muster enough strength to ball fists anymore and now resorting to pitiful open-palmed strikes, still missing the mark.

He turned his face to what Shikadai presumed was enough for the man to lock into a stare. "Hm… perhaps there is a bit of your father in you after all, seeing as you've adopted his more… rational approach. Wise choice. You live." He snapped his head back around and tightened his grip on Boruto's neck. The atmosphere surrounding them now thick and ripe with chakra, nearby rubble lifting off the ground and levitating. "I'm afraid however… the same can't quite be said for your companion."

"Oi! I-I thought said you needed Boruto as well!"

"Two of you would have been preferable, but just one will suffice. I would have assumed today's events would have helped skew his decision, but apparently not. His reluctance will only make things more difficult. He dies."

"Then no deal!" Shikadai bent down to pick up the kunai he'd dropped earlier then adjusted back into a fighting stance. "Either he lives or I want no part of it!"

"If you want to see your friends and family again, then  _do as I say_. If you want to follow in  _his_  footsteps, then  _you die_  by his side and I toss your corpses away without your parents ever knowing of your fate. I chose the two of you based on your backgrounds and credentials but make no mistake, I can just as easily find suitable replacements. Choose your partner wisely, boy."

"Sh… Shik- _ah_ —" Boruto struggled, his eyes beginning to roll to the back of his head.

"I've already decided!"

Shikadai launched himself to the air and threw the kunai among a number of shurikens in his direction with precision even he himself hadn't known he'd possessed. The hooded man looked back only briefly to locate their positions, dug his free hand into his pouch, then effortlessly countered each one with the same weaponry.

He began sprinting towards them the moment the soles of his footwear came to contact with the ground, faith draining from him with every step.  _Damn it, I wasted too much time! My shadow won't make it! **I**  won't make it!_

Boruto's eyes began to close shut, unable to even raise his arms anymore to fight back or claw with.

" _Shit_! No!" Shikadai screamed in helplessness.

He was  _mad_.  _Mad_  that he allowed himself to fall into a trance like that.  _Mad_ that he just stood there dreamy-eyed like some kid whose parent waved a piece of candy at to bribe them with.  _Mad_  that he was running towards them knowing damn well he wouldn't make it in time.  _Mad_  that he couldn't do anything, just like he couldn't do anything during  _that_  incident.  _Mad_  that he allowed his eyes to soak at a time like this.  _Mad_  that he wasn't conserving his energy for the beating he wanted to unleash on him.

The hooded man drew closer to the deathly pale boy, finally within striking range, as if mocking him. "You're finished."

"Damn it, no! Boruto!"

" _Die_!"

"Eight Trigrams: Air Palm!"

With a ferocious yet controlled wave of energy, the hooded man was catapulted far across the field, put to a halt by a collision with Shikadai's body, transferring the momentum and knocking  _him_ back.

Shikadai crashed hard and unceremoniously onto the ground. His field of vision alternated between the floor and the sky as his body spun round until it was put to an abrupt stop by a firm grasp on his back. He sat up slowly, finding comfort somehow reclined against the large hand. He shifted his gaze up higher, scrutinizing whoever it was supporting him.

Jet black hair that was tied back into a ponytail, very much like his own. Standard Konoha ninja gear with little, if any, variation to it. A near spitting image of Shikadai himself, though his face appeared far more mature, and his eyes lacked the pronounced teal pupils. A groomed beard of a shade similar to his hair completed his appearance. He was staring at… at…

"D-Dad?"

"Not quite."

He leaned in closer to Shikadai's ear, not taking his eyes off of the cloaked man. "As a shinobi… you never quite know how a mission will turn out or if you'll even live to fill out the reports for it. I'm glad I've at least lasted long enough to meet my grandson."

Boruto laid there without moving a muscle. All of his energy, or whatever was left of it, went into breathing in harsh, hacking gasps, eager to introduce air back into his lungs. Frankly, he couldn't give a damn who had saved him. Not right now, at least. He was too in love with the prospect of air occupying his airways, cleansing his blood supply and reintroducing itself to his brain. He was just in love with the air in general, and if it were a physical being, he would've gotten down to one knee already.

After his weird infatuation had eventually worn off, Boruto thought a "thank you" was in order to whoever it was that had come to his rescue. Perhaps even lend them a helping hand. Though, with the way his body refused to get into a seated position, let alone stand, meant that he'd probably have to sit this one out. Hadn't stopped him from trying, though. Maybe he was too much like Dad for his own good.

"It's alright, Boruto. Rest. We will take over from here."

His voice hadn't given him away. Boruto looked up and allowed a moment for his vision to adjust. His legs were spread into the famous Hyūga stance, and his long dark hair flowed eloquently with the wind, alternating between concealing and exposing the bulging veins that surrounded his pale eyes. He couldn't really recognize him with closer inspection of his face, but he knew he had to be related to Mom, somehow. Distant relative, he concluded for now. He was too exhausted physically and mentally to delve on beyond that. Right now, he had to maintain all of his focus on the person that was just seconds away from taking his life, slowly helping himself up.

The hooded man dusted off his cloak and looked either side of him, presumably eyeing down the two new faces acting as guards. Despite the fall, that damn hood stayed securely in place, as if the thing was permanently attached to his head. He was indecipherable, making it difficult to predict his next moves. He was just extremely unpredictable in general.

And what he did next had only supported that.

He raised his hands up in surrender. "Even I know better than to take on this many opponents at once."

The pain they were in wasn't enough to mask the look of sheer confusion on both Boruto's and Shikadai's faces.

"You two could learn something from this: pick your battles wisely. Perhaps I'll spare the two of you the next time we meet—oh, and believe me, we will. Perhaps I'll even consider offering the two of you one final opportunity to return to your 'time.' I'd consider it if I were in your positions."

With a one-armed hand sign, he was gone in a puff of smoke.

Boruto shot to his feet. "Hey—hey! Come back you cowa—"

They gave out before he could finish and he quickly dropped to his knees. The Hyūga rushed to aid and expressed his concern, but Boruto didn't respond, nor was he even really listening. He just thought about the hooded man and what he said.  _Pick you battles wisely._  He held up his right hand and glared intently at it. He was in no condition to fight, and neither was Shikadai. So he watched as the smoke settled and accepted the harsh, blunt reality: they had failed.  _He_  had failed.

Shikadai occupied his thoughts with something else that he said.  _The next time we meet._  He had a purpose with him and Boruto. He  _needed_  them for something. He  _will_  come back for them with the proposition. That, or to finish off the job.

And they'll be ready for it.

A hand fell on his shoulder and kneaded it gently.

"C'mon. Let's get you both checked up."

* * *

"I'm fine Aunt Ino, reall— _ow_!"

" _No_  you're  _not_ , now stop resisting already and sit still, would you," she demanded, wrapping the bandage around his arm. "Honestly, you're just like Shikamaru when it comes to this stuff, always putting on that tough guy act.  _So_  not as cool as you guys think it is."

Shikadai had to restrain his eyes from rolling.  _Man, she can still be pretty troublesome at times…_

Ino abruptly stopped. "You just thought I was troublesome, didn't you?"

Shikadai blinked a number of times.  _Are we really that predictable?_

"Yes, you are." She resumed with brows noticeably more furrowed than before. He stared at her, dumbfounded.

She tore off the excess bandage and sealed the remainder shut. "There, that should do it. Try to take it easy the next few days. Don't want these wounds reopening, do we?"

He shook his head feebly. A small smile tugged on her lips.

"Good. We were looking everywhere for you, y'know. Chōji and I."

"Huh? You were?"

She nodded. "Yup. After… well, after…  _y'know_ , we just wanted to see how you were doing, and all. We thought you'd be at Shikamaru's, but he said you hadn't stopped by once. That's when we worried a bit and started our little search. He didn't even bother helping out, the lazy goof."

"He… didn't?"

She paused from clearing away her medical equipment and swayed her head side-to-side. "He assumed you were with Temari, is all. Probably isn't ready to see her just yet."

He nodded hesitantly and lowered his head, the anguish on his face not even the slightest bit inconspicuous.

"Hey, c'mon now, don't make that face. You're gonna get  _me_  all choked up. Just… just give them a little time, okay? I can't imagine how weird it'd be to have a kid from the future show up one day and explain to his parents that they get together and have a bunch of babies. Even if it  _was_  painfully obvious to everyone 'cept for those two dumb geniuses."

He chuckled humorlessly, gaze still at the tiled floor. She placed the side of her curled finger under his chin and tilted his head up.

"Look at me. Your parents are two of the most stubborn people I've ever had the pleasure of meeting. I'd say no offense, but I can't help but feel like you agree with me on this one. I know your dad more than anyone, probably even more than his own parents do. And no matter how tough she tries to be on the outside, I know your mom's a complete softy in here," she said, jabbing the left side of his chest. "Just wait for them, okay? They'll come through. Trust me."

She gave him a warm smile, as if motioning him to mimic her. It certainly succeeded, as he found the corners of his mouth quirking up. She lightly flicked his nose and resumed placing her equipment back into her kit.

He admittedly had a soft spot for Aunt Ino. He could always count on her to let him hide at hers for a bit whenever he needed to get away from Mom, just so his cheek could stay pale for _a little_ while longer. Speaking of Mom…

"Hey, Aunt Ino?"

"Mm-hm?"

"Where  _is_  Mom?"

"She'll be here soon," spoke a familiar voice.

The curtain that separated the cubical from the rest of room was pushed aside.

He walked towards him with a slouch and hands stuffed in his pockets. Dad's old man. His grandpa. Shikaku Nara.

It always astonished him how much he'd looked like Dad in Grandma's photo albums. Dad was literally one bad fall down the stairs away from being an actual shadow clone of him.

He hadn't missed the way Grandpa's face softened at the sight of him, or the way his apathy traded for poorly-disguised enthusiasm. The hand on his back... it was the first form of contact he'd ever had with him. He wasn't there to hold him at his birth. He wasn't there by Grandma's side when Mom and Dad had left him in her care while they were away on missions. He was robbed of all that. 

Shikadai thought back to what he said earlier.  _I'm glad I've at least lasted long enough to meet my grandson._  That hurt to hear. A lot. If this little trip managed to do something right, it was making this into a reality.

"How're you holding up?" he spoke with a voice that wasn't strained by years of excessive smoking, confirming that he is in fact  _not_  Dad.

"I'm fine," said Shikadai. Ino scoffed, before he continued, "Boruto got it a lot worse than me."

"So I've seen. They're taking good care of him, though, so try not to linger on it too much."

He nodded. "How did you guys know we were in trouble?"

"We didn't."

Shikadai looked at him skeptically.

"Lady Tsunade needed you and the other one for further questioning. She assumed the process would go a lot smoother if approached by those the two of you were probably already familiar with, instead of a couple of masked ANBUs. My partner was able to locate you two with his Byakugan, and believe me, he wasn't particularly pleased when he saw the other kid's throat being crushed. I wish I could say the dramatic hero entrance was entirely intentional," he finished with a husky snicker.

Even his laugh sounded damn-near identical to Dad's. Sheesh, did his dad not adopt  _anything_  from Grandma? At least Mom's genes put up some sort of a fight.

The curtains moved aside again. Ino leaned her head back to catch a glimpse of whoever it was that had decided to join them unannounced. Shikaku stood and turned around. Shikadai elevated his gaze.

Teal eyes were locked in a stare with teal eyes.

_Mom._

In the same way he could recognize that rare, special smile of hers, he could also recognize when the guilt and remorse that fortified within her was kept hidden with an insincere, stoic expression.

She walked towards him, paying no mind to the two others that occupied the cubical. She crouched down to his level and began inspected his injuries, turning his hand and raising his leg to get a clearer view.

Her fingers took through his hair, re-positioning the loose strands that curtained his face back over his head. She dabbed a thumb onto the tip of her tongue, then used it to gently wipe away the spec of blood that was smeared on his face.

"Are you okay?" she whispered, so quiet only Shikadai could hear her.

He nodded slowly, careful not to disturb her gentle caresses.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again. Shikadai wasn't particularly sure what it was exactly she was referring to, but the hurt in her eyes and the repressed quiver of her lips, as if she was blaming  _herself_  for what'd happened, was all he needed to forgive her anyway.

A hesitant cough prompted her to move her hand away and stand back up almost immediately, much to his disappointment.

"Sorry to interrupt, but seeing as you're here and Shikadai's cleared to go," Shikaku turned to face Ino for confirmation, who then nodded confidently, "I think it's time we started heading home." He began stroking the back of his neck nervously. "Your grandmother will have a go at me for bringing along two guests unannounced."

His words gradually dawned on her.

" _Oh_ —oh no no, that won't be necessary, really." She held out a hand and waved it as if brushing aside the offer.

"I'm afraid it wasn't a request. It was an order."

 _Uh-oh._  Temari's faint smile turned to a menacing frown almost instantaneously. Both Shikadai and Shikaku visibly gulped.

"Excuse me?" Her eyes narrowed.

He ignored the venom in her voice. "I should clarify; it was an order from Lady Tsunade. She wants you under our care for the remainder of your stay here in Konoha."

She crossed her arms. "While I appreciate the concern, I am very capable of looking after myself."

"And I don't doubt that. But you have to recognize that with your... ties with Shikada—"

"Mother."

"What?"

"Mother. I'm his mother."

Shikadai's lips parted. It was the first time she'd openly acknowledged herself as  _Mom_. He hated the rush of warmth he felt through his body. Damn it, when did he turn into such a mushy sap?

Shikaku gave a single nod. "Hm, right. And as his mother, that puts you at risk along with him."

"I still haven't been given any reason as to  _why_  I need to be put 'under care,'" she gestured with her fingers, "by anyone, as if I wasn't already a full-fledged jōnin myself with  _years_ of battle experience."

"The property will be surrounded by both ANBU and my clansmen. I'll also be there keeping a close eye on everyone. Shikamaru will be there t—"

"I don't need to be protected by a chūnin."

"We both know he's one by choice."

She said nothing.

"It goes both ways, I should add. As Shikadai's father, he'll be at risk too, and you'll be there to support him. Most importantly, it adds another layer of protection for Shikadai."

She said nothing again. She  _did_  want to protect her son. She absolutely did. The sight of him black and blue and being held together by plasters and bandages was enough to incite feelings of pain and hurt and anger and  _rage_ , so much so that she almost  _wanted_  whoever it was that did this to him to show up, just so that she could club the person repeatedly with her tessen. But, she also didn't want to see…  _him_. Not yet. She wasn't ready.

"Temari. You have to recognize that if you were to get hurt—"

"I won't."

" _If_ , you were to get hurt in Konoha, it would sever the ties between our villages and you know that."

She inwardly sighed. It was true. She did. Even if her brother Gaara did everything in his power to convince the elders and higher-ups of her village that Konoha had little do with her death, the relationship between the two countries would never improve, given her position in the village. Certainly not to the extent that it was now. Worst case scenario? Another war breaks out.

She'd never be allowed to visit Konoha again. Well, she'd be dead, anyway, but the two are basically interchangeable.

"Please," Shikadai said in a small voice, tugging slightly on her glove.

She stared into his teal eyes, wide and carefully hopeful, and for a brief moment, she forgot everything. She forgot about the way Shika-Dad's feet tapped impatiently against the floor, motioning her to give a response sooner. She forgot about the way Ino was clasping her hands together and pouted as if  _she_  was one of the lucky contenders that got to take the Sand kunoichi home with them. She forgot about the way Shikamaru shunned her when she called out to him back at the restaurant and how it affected her more than she was willing to admit. All she remembered was that there was an endangered child who wanted, no, _needed_  his mother by his side.

She slumped her shoulders in defeat and ceased her struggles.

"Fine."

She ignored the way her heart melted when he beamed at her. When did she turn into such a mushy sap?

* * *

"Ssss,  _ah_!"

"Sorry! Sorry about that, Boruto," Sakura said, resting his swollen hand onto the material she intended to form the sling with. "Whoever that guy was  _really_  wasn't going easy on you two."

" _Hmph_. Wasn't even him who did it. It was my stupid old man."

"Oh? Did something happen between you two after I left?"

He lowered his eyes. She stared at him blankly for a while, until he'd started to get uncomfortable.

"It was nothin'."

She gave him an unconvinced nod. Boruto scratched the corner of chin with a finger, uncertain about how to proceed.

"Hey, uh, Aunt Sakura? Sorry about what I said earlier."

She gave him a quizzical look. "Huh? What d'you mean?"

"You know, right before you left. About Uncle Sasuke, and stuff. I didn't mean for you to run off and upset you, or anything like that."

She looked at him with the same blank stare, as if she was replaying the events in her head. She then chuckled lightly, getting up to tie the sling behind him. Boruto raised a brow, though she couldn't see it.

"Oh, no no. I wasn't upset, Boruto. Don't be sorry!" He heard her sigh from behind, like she was pondering on what to say next. "It was just… knowing that I have a daughter with... with Uncle Sasuke, it was—"

" _Ow_! Easy!"

"Sorry! Sorry." She leaned over his shoulder to get better look at his arm, then attempted to tie the sling again with more caution. "It was a lot to take in at the time. I just needed a little bit of space to think it all over, that's all. I'm not upset, I promise. Actually… I'd say I'm pretty far from it."

Content with her knot, she walked back around and crouched down, giving him a reassuring smile with eyelids shut and cheeks tinged pink. Boruto glared at her,  _slightly_  mesmerized _. Fine,_   _she is sorta pretty, I'll give her that much. Y'know, she looks a lot like Sarada…_

His eyes widened animatedly. _Did I really just think that?! Blegh. I really am going insane here._ He shook his head, hoping the thoughts would fall right out.

"Sarada."

Boruto choked harshly on the air, dramatically clutching his chest with his free arm.

"Wh-what?" he stuttered.

"Sarada Uchiha. That's my daughter's name, isn't it?"

"Uh, um," he coughed out the hesitancy in his voice, "right, yeah it is. That's right."

"Tell me a bit about her."

"About… her?"

She nodded. "Yeah, like… I don't know… her dreams and aspirations, maybe?"

He put a hand to his chin, though he already knew the answer to that. It was more so to make for extra time to allow his pounding heart to settle.

"She wants to be the Hokage."

"Oh? That's  _very_ ambitious. I hope she isn't screaming it from the top of her lungs every chance she gets like your dad or anything," she finished with a snort.

He both wagged a finger and shook his head. "No,  _god no_ , thankfully not."

"What about you?" she asked.

There was a small pause before he responded. "What about me?"

"Don't  _you_  also want to be the Hokage, like your dad? Wouldn't that make you and Sarada, like, rivals with each other?"

Boruto shook his head again. "Nuh-uh. I have  _zero_  interest in ever being the Hokage. She can take it for all I care. Me… I just want to be a cool shinobi, one just like Uncle Sasuke."

She stared at him, and it felt as if he was being examined by her. Her eyes eventually dropped to her hands that fidgeted on her lap.

He continued, "And I'll be her right-hand man and guard her when  _she_ becomes Hokage."

A sly smile slowly crept onto her face. He  _really_ didn't like that.

"To guard her, huh?"

"Uh… yeah."

"Aaaand,  _why_  is that?"

"…No reason."

"No?"

"Nuh-uh."

"None at all?"

"Nope."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes ma'am."

He tugged on the collar of his shirt. Did someone start a fire nearby, or something? Somebody open up a window already, geez.

"What does she look like?"

He had  _really_  hoped she would've moved on to something else already.

"Ah, well… she has… dark hair, I guess."

"My eyes?"

As if he didn't know the answer to it already, he studied her emerald green eyes, then shook his head. "They're more like Uncle Sasuke's."

"Is she pretty?"

Yeah. She was definitely insane.

" ** _WHAT_**?!"

"Do you think my daughter's pretty?" she repeated.

"Wh-wh-what sorta question is  _that_?!"

Sakura shrugged her shoulders as if she hadn't just sent his entire body into a complete frenzy. "I'm just curious to know what my daughter looks like, is all."

She let a teasing smile slip for just a second before her lips returned to neutral. The psycho was doing this on purpose!

Before he could open his mouth and either respond with words or gargle out some inhumane sound, there was a knock on the door. It creaked open slowly, and pale eyes peeped through the small opening. The door then pushed open even further.

It was the Hyūga from before. The man deserved an even bigger thanks for saving him twice, now.

"Has he been treated?" he spoke in a cool, calm voice, letting himself into the room.

Sakura got out from her seat. "Just about. Come on over, Neji."


	9. Home

"Come on in, Neji."

That name.  _Neji_. He'd heard it enough times to know that he was somebody significant, and yet, for whatever reason, not often enough to have made a lasting impression. He did look somewhat familiar; he was sure he'd seen his likeness somewhere, but  _where_? Was he just some cousin of Mom's that rarely showed up to visit?

He was enticed to raise his uninjured arm to his head and strike the side of it repeatedly to rattle his brain about, hoping that something would eventually click into place and help him to remember, but he _really_  didn't want to deal with Sarada's psychotic mother or mystery Hyūga man drowning him in concern. So he settled with staring at the source of his confusion in silence, studying him as he approached closer.

"How are you feeling?" he said with a straight back, head inclined forward just enough to provide a line of sight that was parallel to Boruto's.

"I mean…" Boruto lowered his eyes to the sling-supported arm and lightly rocked it, "the next few days are gonna be a complete pain in the a—uh, behind; I'm not even sure  _how_  I'm supposed to eat or shower or even pee with this thing. But besides that, I'm doing alright, I guess."

Hyūga gave a slow, single nod. "I'm glad to hear that."

His lips then quirked up into… a smile? It sort of resembled a smile, anyway. Boruto had a feeling he didn't do a whole lot of that.

But what  _was_  clear to him was that the disturbed countenance that was present on the Hyūga as he walked passed the door wasn't there anymore. Not even the slightest trace of it was left behind, instead being replaced by one of genuine relief. Like sleep won't be eluding him tonight. He subtly allowed his shoulders to slump—only a little, as he didn't strike Boruto as someone who'd slouch often, if at all, but enough to know that the very thing that was troubling him wasn't a concern anymore. His well-being.  _Him_. That his condition wasn't in too bad of a state, and that he was now safe and in the watchful care of a number of capable fighters. No, he certainly didn't seem like someone who'd rarely ever visit, not anymore.

An unsettling feeling began brewing in the deepest pit of his stomach, and Boruto had a feeling it had little to do with the ramen he had earlier. Guilt. It was guilt. He felt it as he looked deep into pale eyes surrounded by an affectionate frame, and as he responded back with a low-effort smile that Boruto  _knew_  was transparent. The Hyūg—no,  _Neji_ , had to have meant so much more.

And he couldn't remember him.

"Is he free to leave?" Neji said, eyes coming to rest on Sakura.

"Well, unless there's something Boruto isn't telling me about," she said looking back at him. He briskly shook his head, ignoring the fortifying desire to throw up.

"Then he's all yours."

"I see."

"What does Lady Tsunade want from you?" she followed immediately.

"She asked that I gather as much information as possible relating to the events that just arose. If you don't mind, Boruto, I'll need you to answer a few questions on what happened—perhaps even a retelling of everything could be of use."

Boruto responded with a single, understanding nod.

Neji imitated the gesture. "Alright, then. Follow me. We'll discuss on the way to Naruto's residence, where you'll be staying the night."

Boruto's head shot up, eyes widened, nostrils flared and jaw lowered, in that order, before yelling out, " _No_!"

Sakura reclined in her seat. Neji showed no signs of being startled, but turned to face him anyway. His eyelids distanced a bit, but for the most part, his face maintained the usual blank expression. Sakura's perplexed look was slightly more exaggerated.

"What's wrong?" she asked with a hovering brow.

Boruto made use of his cast-free limb and did his best to produce something that resembled crossed arms. "I am  _not_  going  _there_."

Neji and Sakura exchanged puzzled glances at each other. She shrugged her shoulders to reassure him that she knew as much of it as he did. Neji looked back as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, though Boruto wasn't necessarily sure what about his calm face had given him that impression.

"Rest assured Boruto, you won't have to be concerned about any more ambushes; the premise will be heavily guarded by a number of our clansmen. And, as I'm sure you're already aware, your father himself is also a very capabl—"

"It's not that," Boruto said cutting him off, shaking his head simultaneously.

"Then, where would do you wish to go?" Neji asked.

He lowered his gaze to the tiled floor. Truthfully, he didn't care where—just anywhere,  _anywhere_  else. He didn't want to see Dad, not yet. He still had to be punished. Punished for what he did to his wrist and had him essentially handicapped in the fight. Punished for not even trying to chase after him when he'd left Ichiraku's. Punished for the way he treated…

His breath caught, and face lit up as a light bulb went off in  _his_  head. He lifted his head back up and curved his lips into a smile.

"Could you take me to Mom's house?"

* * *

"Shikamaru! Someone's at the door!"

 _Great._  He made a funnel shape with his hand and neared it toward his mouth, as if to amplify the sound of his response, "I'm aware!"

"Then get off your lazy backside and go open it!"

He could almost picture his mom with hands on hips and back to pots as she yelled that.

He was awake. Not wide awake; he had almost drifted out of consciousness a number of times, but enough to know that his dad had gone off on some short-notice mission, which was met with a little resistance from Mom. He was in a relatively comfortable position. On any other day, he'd have fallen fast asleep already, but some days, such as this one, a kid from the future shows up unannounced and starts insisting that he's  _your_  kid, and, well, it makes sleep just a little more difficult. Learning that you have a child—not even a daughter, mind you, as was planned. Learning that you grow up to be the Hokage's right-hand man. Learning that your wife is—

Nope. Not now. He'd already told himself he wasn't going to think of it again. Not today. Not until he'd slept it through, and maybe, once he'd found his big boy pants, he'd confront the whole thing head on, tomorrow. Maybe.

But first, he'd have to open that damn door.

He lifted himself upright in his bed, slow and sloppy in form, and walked lethargically towards the stairs.

Fourteen steps. Fourteen steps he would have to take until he'd reached the bottom of the staircase. He leaned his head back and inwardly groaned.  _Troublesome._

The first four steps went by with little thought, but plentiful struggle. On the fifth, he questioned why it was even him who had to be the one to open it. She was in the kitchen, the room nearest the door, it was only reasonable that  _she'd_  be the one to do it. Both feet then rested on the sixth step, and he paused. He knew that once he'd made it to the seventh, he'd have made the halfway mark and would then have to fully commit to the task, take the remaining steps down the stairs, walk through the corridor to the door,  _open_  the door, exchange pleasantries with the cause of his suffering, then do it all over in reverse order to make the difficult journey back to his room. Maybe, just maybe, if he were to wait here long enough, she'd eventually get sick of all the knocking and end up doing it hersel—

" _SHIKAMARU_! OPEN THE DOOR,  ** _NOW_**!"

Never mind.

He completed the remaining steps at a hurried pace. The imagery of his mother blocking the path with that cursed ladle in hand struck immense fear into his heart. God, did he hate that thing. He thrust his head forward to get a view of the passageway. Coast was clear. He quickly exhaled in relief. She rarely resorted to assault; her words and the harsh, commanding tone they were shaped by struck with greater depth than any kunai ever could. But every now and again, that cursed ladle would make a special appearance. Had she ever even used the thing with an actual intent to cook or serve with? It was pretty much always perfectly immaculate, borderline straight-out-the-package immaculate. He was convinced its only purpose was to strike a Shikamaru Nara with it. Or, the occasional Shikaku Nara.

Speaking of Dad, he had long recognized that it was him at the door; he was close enough to identify that rhythmic knocking of his. If only he'd carried around a key with him, he wouldn't have been in this predicament right now.

He turned the handle down, waited for the  _click_ , and pulled the door open to reveal the person that stood behind it.

No, not person.  _People_. It was his dad.

With his son.

And his wife.

He knew he should've turned back at the sixth step.

Shikamaru stared at his son, then at his dad, then at Temari, back at his son, to Temari again, then to his dad, to Temari, to his son, Temari, dad, Temari, son, Temari, and then kept it there, maintaining a stare with her. Why on earth wasn't he looking away? Why on earth wasn't  _she_  looking away? Out of the corners of his eyes, he could just about see his dad's lips move, but no sound seemed to emit from them. Damn it, he got lost in her eyes again. Every time.

"Shikamaru!"

 _Uh-oh._  He certainly heard that. His eyes widened, even further than they already had, still, for whatever reason, refusing to look away from Temari, who still, for whatever reason, was refusing to look away from  _him_.

"Who's at the door?" cried his mom. Her voice struck his ear as if she was only inches away.

"It's me, Yoshino dear," Shikaku responded, loud enough for her to hear, but not quite loud enough to be considered a yell. Shikamaru finally maneuvered his eyes away from Temari, who appeared to had done the same.

" _What are you doing_?" he whispered to his dad, practically mouthing it with how quite it was. He heard the sound of a utensil clashing repeatedly against a metal pot, and gulped harshly. The sound of footsteps then followed, and his knees began to oscillate. He was sweating profusely; face, neck, pits, you name it, it was likely damp and emitting odor. He looked back at his dad, firing him a look that demanded a response.

His dad shrugged. In just a matter of seconds, he had to find an appropriate way to unload the information to his mother that his future wife and son were at the door, and the man simply shrugged. Shikamaru closed his eyes and bit his lip. No matter. Maintain a reasonable distance, ignore the fire in her eyes, explain the situation to her, give her a moment to digest and surely she'll respond reasonably—

"Move it, mister!"

His mother pushed him aside and opened the door wide. "Shikaku Nara! You told me you wouldn't be very long! Do you have  _any_  idea, any… idea, what… you," her speech slurred as her eyes came to rest on the young boy in front of her, who had a striking resemblance to  _her_  boy. "Oh, hello there. Who's this, Shikaku?"

He leaned forward and roped his arm around Shikadai's neck, a crooked smile settling on his face. "Our boy's finally given us a grandson."

Well, that's one way to do it.

If you wanted a death wish.

His mother stilled. Her head, and  _just_  her head, rotated to face him, slowly. Teeth bared and clenched, eyes flashing crimson. She released the unnecessarily tight hold she had on the door and allowed her body to follow suit in facing him. Her heaving chest seemed more prominent from this angle. Both hands were now at her sides, with one being occupied by… a ladle. Oh. How about that. Turns out she does actually use it to cook with.

"Wait,  _wait_ , w-wait Mom, it's not what you're thinking, let me explain, look, he's too big to be—wait, wh-what are you doing with tha—"

* * *

_Neji. Neji. Neji Neji Neji. Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji-Neji—_

The thought process was that if kept repeating his name over and over in his head, it would finally come to him. Any minute now, he'd remember who he was, the discomfort would wear off, the ache in his stomach would settle, and he wouldn't feel like such a terrible human being anymore.

It never came.

The discomfort was still there. The ache didn't settle. And he still felt like a terrible person.

Boruto thumped his head repeatedly with his palm, perturbed stares be damned. Neji could see his little fit with his Byakugan, but opted out of acknowledging it.

Unsurprisingly, the property still looked very much the same. The Hyūgas weren't really ones for refurbishing, and understandable so. Its towering structure and wide landscape already captured perfectly the prestige and rich history of the clan. A giant wooden sign that reads "Hyūga" certainly helps, too.

A number of clansmen looked on skeptically at the blond as he illuminated the ill-lit environment, but a protective hand from Neji cupped Boruto's shoulder and drew the two closer together, daring them to make a comment.

The two stood in front of the door of the compound. With three successive knocks, Neji took a step back. Boruto aligned himself behind Neji in a way such that he was completely hidden from view, and waited.

He could hear timid footsteps approaching from the behind the door. Followed was a firm grasp of the handle, then the sound of it turning. A click, and then a creak.

"Oh, Brother, you're back."

It was her. It had to be. A voice so soothing and spoken as if to conserve energy. The discomfort that he felt… it was finally wearing off. The ache in his stomach was now settling. He still felt like a terrible human being, but at least not one that had to support his stomach with a tight clutch, or needed a bucket by him at all times.

"Yes. I also brought along with me a guest," said Neji, taking a few steps to the side as if playing along.

"Yo, Mom."

Boruto flashed her his most radiant grin, one that he wasn't content with until every tooth was on display and no light could seep past his eyelids. He sprung from the ground and grabbed her tight in a one-armed bear hug.

Any moment now, she'd return the embrace.  _Any_  moment now, she'd cradle her arms around him and lean her head on his shoulder. He growled, frustrated that nothing had happened yet, and looked upwards. She was stiff as a board and pale as a ghost, and he was sure if he were to release the hold he had on her, those knees would buckle and that body would familiarize itself with the floor again.

In a swift, reflexive movement, he cupped her face with one hand, neared it toward his, and furrowed his brows. "Don't you dare pass out again. We have work to do."

* * *

Well, the back-and-forth dynamic between the two had certainly never changed. Grandma still played the role of overbearing, influential mother, and Dad the role of ill-tempered, submissive son. Her influence over Dad wasn't all that surprising, nor anything new, either. But to be able to reduce  _Grandpa_  into silent submission with just a single glare? Well, to be fair, it  _is_  a pretty terrifying one. No doubt had been regularly adjusted at every use until she'd figured out the most effective one that brought about ideal results.

It was somewhat surreal seeing the infamous ladle make an appearance. Dad would often tell war stories about the thing, how if she'd ever resorted to using it, its intent, its  _purpose_  wouldn't be fulfilled until flesh had been struck, never to be wagged in the air with for intimidation. It was his silly way of reassuring him that Mom's disciplining was supposedly "pale" in comparison. Frankly, those saucepan hands of Mom's were way worse than any weird variation of a spoon had to offer. Thankfully, Grandma had only managed just a single strike to the curvature of his forehead before Grandpa intervened, making some much-needed amends for his poor choice of words. He explained the situation to her, which of course was met with the usual response of a mouth agape in disbelief and a witless look.

Though, the smothering part was new, at least. So were the excessive kisses to the cheeks and forehead. Oh, and the tears, too. She even  _thanked_  Dad for giving her a grandson. The rolling of eyes from everybody in the room at that moment must've have been record-shattering.

"Oi, take it easy woma—uh, Mom," Shikamaru said, correcting himself towards the end there with a stiff cough, a gasp of regret more than anything. Grandma continued to dab a wet cloth on the forehead coated by something Shikadai wasn't necessarily sure was dinner or  _that_  red fluid.

"This wouldn't have happened if your father had made things clearer right from the start," Yoshino said. "If anything,  _he_  should've been on the receiving end of that." 

"Apology… accepted…?  _Ow_!"

"Don't be such a smart aleck. Now hold this here and go sit at the table."

Shikamaru mumbled something under his breath, then did as told. Shikadai watched as their interaction played out, and couldn't help but notice something was… off. No, it became increasingly clear to him that  _this_  wasn't what was off. Her words, they carried an emotional weight to them that wasn't present in the future, nor the blunt, irritated tone. It was more insincere in his time, as if she was only yelling to recreate a shallow, transparent environment the two were so familiar with, and Future Dad would take it, even though he didn't have to, because that's what he always did. That's how it'd always been. The Shikamaru in front of him right now seemed to treat her entire existence as some sort of burden, and wouldn't saying anything out of fear, not by choice. This wasn't the case in the future, where the little time that they had with each other was savored, something precious, even if they hid it well. He wasn't quite sure what it was that could've provoked this change.

Two large hands dropped suddenly onto his shoulders, startling him.

"Hope you're hungry," Shikaku said. He neared slightly to Shikadai's ear, and spoke in a hushed voice. "Your grandmother tends to overdo the portions whenever we have guests."

With a slight knead of his shoulders and a gentle pat on the head, Shikaku walked off and sat down onto the chair beside Dad, who sat on the opposite side of the table, presumably—and unsurprisingly—to distance himself from the blond woman that next to Shikadai. Petty parents put aside, Shikadai couldn't quite help but notice the claustrophobic feeling slowly bearing down on him, as if the room had gotten significantly smaller, or his clothes had shrunk two sizes.

He felt the very exact same thing when with his dad's sensei.

Even after a couple of hours had passed, he still wasn't quite sure how to approach this sensitive topic, this heavy burden that plagued his thoughts. He watched as Shikaku tried to playfully probe his dad's head, a teasing smile on his face, and just couldn't stomach it. Knowing that their interactions would be short-lived and wrongfully stripped away. Knowing that soon he'd have to tell him, and that smile would never surface again.

A reassuring hand cupped around his bicep.

"Are you okay?" whispered Temari, again, just quiet enough so that only he could hear her.

And once more, without fail, all the fear, the anxiety and the concern that almost suffocated him was gone in an instant. Even if just put out of sight or caged for a moment, it was still enough to ease the ache that he felt and settle the thudding of his heart. How she'd managed to do this consistently every time, he just couldn't fathom.

_No rush. I can bring it to their attention later._

He beamed her a smile—a smile that she had always insisted was  _her_ smile, to comfort her the same way she always did him. A smile that slowly found itself onto her face.

"I can't believe it. A grandson. A  _grandson_!  _I_  have a grandson, and not even a peep about it from my good-for-nothing son!" Yoshino said irritably, placing the last of the bowls down onto the table.

"I wonder why," Shikamaru mumbled, pressing the cloth against his forehead with one hand while attempting to raise the rice to his mouth using the other.

"Look, Shikamaru, I'm sorry, but no son of  _mine_  is having a child before marriage." She took a seat next to Temari and began piling her plate. "Now, seeing as we're on topic… Temari, I'm assuming you'd like two different ceremonies? One here, and one in your village?"

She gave her a bewildered look. "Ceremony? What… are you…?"

"Your wedding with my son, of course."

The rice hadn't managed to travel beyond Shikamaru's throat before being forcibly pushed back out again. He made a conscious effort to aim the trajectory of the rice particulates away from the table.

"Shikamaru! You're making a mess all over the floor! Chew your food properly!"

His chest heaved as he took deep, eager breaths. "I know how to chew, woman, and this is  _not_  something that we're discussing right now!"

"What have I told you about labeling me as just  _some woman_? I'm your mother! And why on earth not?"

"Because I haven't even proposed to her!"

"Well then—"

"And I  _don't_ plan on doing it anytime soon, either," he said, cutting her off. He whipped his head toward Temari for support, but was thrown completely off balance by her look of… hurt? Shikamaru shook his head. That couldn't be it.

"Well you better get to it, because your mother wants more grandchildren."

An unmasculine shriek hissed past Shikamaru's lips and he fell into a petrified stance, as if one of Shino's bugs was nearing him. "Oi, M-Mom! Wh-what the hell?!"

She narrowed her eyes. "Watch your tongue, boy!"

He draped the cloth over his crimson face.

"And elbows off the table!"

He leaned back so that they were no longer pressed against the surface.

"Now," she said, turning her attention back to an equally as red Temari, "I'd imagine wedding traditions in Suna must differ quite a bit from that of Konoha's, no? I'm going to need you to fill me in on that. Oh, I should probably get Ino to help with the preparations. Do you have any venues in mind, Temari?"

Yoshino continued to ask a barrage of questions, quickly following one with another and leaving Temari with little opportunity to respond. A large part of her was relieved anyway, seeing as there wasn't a chance for her to respond sensibly in her current state. It took all of her willpower to not make a run for the door and distance herself as far as possible from the woman Shikamaru had often warned her about.

Shikadai sensed her discomfort and waited for an opening to intervene. "Ah, Grandma, see, Mom's had a bunch of meetings with the fifth Hokage today, her thoughts on the matter can't be any good with that worn-out brain of hers, don't you think?"

"Oh, is that so?" she asked. "What was I thinking? I apologize, Temari dear. We can wait to talk about it tomorrow."

Temari hummed a noise in agreement. She turned to Shikadai and quirked her lips into her signature smirk, then mouthed, "Thank you."

"So, want to explain to me what exactly happened back there?" Shikaku asked.

Shikadai looked up from his rice to see all eyes locked on him. He swallowed, then spoke. "It was him. The man that sent me and Boruto to the past. That was him."

"And what exactly prompted him to show up again?"

"He said he wanted to talk to us."

"Talk?"

He nodded. "Mm."

"Talk about…?"

"Things got… physical, before we had a chance to find out."

Shikaku sat back and closed his eyes. "He said he'd confront you guys again, didn't he? Any idea when you think he'll next show up and make a move?"

Shikadai shook his head. "I wish I did."

"We could lure him out," Shikamaru said after a lull in the conversation. Shikadai was admittedly surprised that his dad was even acknowledging him. "He approached just you and Naruto's son, didn't he? What if we were to isolate you both from everyone else? He'd probably show up again, wouldn't he?"

"You want to use our son as  _bait_?" Temari said, setting her utensil down.

He shook his head, alarmed at how casually she spoke to him. "I didn't say that."

"You were implying it."

"I was implying that we draw him out with support on standby."

"We are _not_  putting him at risk like that."

He raised a brow. "When did you get so attached to him?"

She scoffed. "One of us has to make an effort."

"And _where_  exactly were you when this little affair went down?"

"Where were  _you_?" she said with extra venom for the occasion, the final word jabbing him like a shuriken on a target practice.

"Shikamaru, stop provoking your wife!" Yoshino interjected.

"She's not my wife!" he insisted, just as Temari said, "I'm not his wife!"

"Alright, now that we've acknowledged that  _both_  your parenting could use some work, what would you rather we do, then, Temari?" Shikaku asked, setting his cup down. "I only ask seeing as he  _is_  your son."

"We wait," she briskly responded.

"Just wait?"

She nodded. "That's it. He'll eventually get tired of waiting around and will be forced to take action, regardless of our protection.  _That's_ when we'll act accordingly."

"Hm." He leisurely ran his fingers through his beard. "What do you think, Shikadai?"

The prospect of sitting around doing nothing didn't particularly entertain him, nor did it seem like a productive way to go about doing things. He was actually rather surprised that  _Mom_  was the one to offer such an approach. To be honest, he felt fine. He was fit to fight. Maybe not necessarily right now, but after a good night's rest, absolutely. He didn't adopt his mother's chakra reserves just to clown around and not take advantage of.

But right then, his blue-eyed companion and that silly smile of his flashed across his mind, and he slumped his shoulders. He'd forgotten about Boruto and of his current condition. He was an important part of the equation, too, and it wouldn't do without him. Guess he'll have to tough it out, just for a little longer.

"We wait."

The rest of the dinner had been relatively uneventful. Yoshino had insisted he try every dish, so that he could grow big and strong just like his mother. Shikamaru was slightly offended that his name hadn't been thrown into the mix. Temari was slightly offended at the unintentional dig at her weight.

"Shikadai, you must be exhausted. Shall I take you to the guest room now?" Yoshino asked.

He nodded. Frankly, he  _was_ exhausted, and could really use a comfortable mattress right now to cleanse his thoughts from today's events.

Shikaku pushed his half-completed report forward and stood, running a hand across his nape. "I'll tag along. I... uh, I'll need to ask Shikadai a couple more questions."

"Mm. Temari, dear, you'll be sleeping on Shikamaru's bed tonight."

A jolt of panic coursed through her blood at the implication. She shook her head, hopeful that the suggestive thoughts would tumble right out. His mother had obviously meant that she occupy his bed alone, of course. That wasn't so bad. Hell, the look on his face, as if he were a toddler whose treasured toy was taken from him, had almost managed to make the whole thing slightly amusing. On the other hand, the thought of being surrounded by pillows and covers bathed in his scent caught her breath and fired bolts of electric awareness to her spine. She parted her lips to protest, but was immediately cut off by his mother. "Shikamaru! Show her to your room."

He slouched in disappointment. "I guess I'll sleep on the couch, then…"

"And  _why_  on earth would you do that?" Yoshino asked.

He stared at her, dumbfounded. "Then… where do I sleep tonight?"

"What kind of silly question is that? Where else do you think?" she said, as if were the most obvious thing in the world.

Was… was she kicking him outside? To sleep out in the forest, along with the deer? Did he mean _that_  little to her? Her son of 16 years and he was that low on the totem pole?

"That bed of yours has enough room for two."

* * *

"Boruto, would you care for a beverage or anything?"

"Nah, I'm good, Uncle  _Neji_ ," Boruto responded, hoping that the extra emphasis would help him to remember. It didn't.

Silence settled in awkwardly. Boruto drummed his fingers against his thigh, delivering feeble coughs at irregular intervals to help ease the discomfort. It didn't.

" _So_ …" he started, glancing over at a stiff Hinata, "where's, uh, Aunt Hanabi?"

"She's away on a mission right now," Neji said plainly.

Boruto drooped his face into a pout. He already knew the answer to that; Neji had told him on the way here. He was just hoping Mom would actually use that damn mouth of hers for once. "Uh-huh. Got it. Hey,  _Mom_ , where's Grandpa at?"

Nothing.

"He's currently in a meeting," Neji responded eventually, helping to fill the silence.

He growled, then paced towards her, crouching to her level and shortening the gap separating their faces.

"Is that true,  _Mom_?"

She used all of her might to swallow back down the whimper at the invaded proximity and nodded timidly, head turned and lowered, giving him a clear view of her profile.

He walked around and crouched lower than before so that their faces met again. "Huh? What was that? Couldn't quite hear you."

She turned her head away once more. "Yes," she croaked in a whisper.

He gave a defeated sigh and fell into the seat beside her. "Y'know, you're never going to get Da— _Naruto's_  attention if you keep acting all shy and timid like that."

Her face lit like a red bulb and eyes widened in horror. It was the most expressive he'd  _ever_  seen it, past  _or_  future. "N-no! Th-that's not, I-I don't, it's just, I mean, h-he's, I… I d-don't—"

A mischievous grin slowly developed on his face. _Bingo._

"Alright, get up."

She continued stammering, stumbling on her words and resetting her sentences. He sighed inwardly this time. Using his sling-free arm, he shackled a wrist and pulled her to her feet, earning him a yelp for his troubles.

" _I_ , am going to be your life coach. Is that what they call it?" He nimbly shook his head. "Whatever. That's what I'm calling it. I'm going help fix you up, and I promise, by the end of it, Dad'll be drooling all over the new and improved you. Wait, no-no, that sounded weird. Um… he'll crush on you? He'll like you? Yeah, let's go with that. Now, any objections before we get started?"

She parted her lips to object.

"Okay, good. First up: posture.  _This_ ," he gestured at her timid stance, "this won't do it."

He walked over to her to rearrange and re-position her arms, her feet, her everything, really, ignoring his mom's resistance and desperate struggles. "Just… just move a little… and put this here…  _and_ … there! Perfect!"

She stood rigid and uncomfortably with her head leaned back and a leg further than the other, back curved awkwardly and hands placed above her hips.

"Good. Now…  _hey_!" He snapped his fingers, drawing the attention of her pupils. "My eyes are over here. Keep them here and  _only_  here. Maintaining eye contact is crucial in all of this, and it won't do if you're just staring at your toes all the time."

He traipsed back with his hands up, making sure that her eyes stayed locked to his.

" _Okay_ , good-good-good. Just keep at it. Next up, that stuttering of yours. We  _should_  be able to work on it, seeing as you don't do that anymore in the future. Now, repeat after me, 'I am a strong, confident, pretty woman who's a way better, stronger and smarter mom than that psychopath Aunt Sakura.' From the top, now."

Her face was once more the most expressive he'd even seen it, sheer puzzlement dominating her appearance.

"Wait, no, did I overdo? I overdid it." He wagged a hand in the air. "Okay, just try, 'I am a strong, confident, pretty woman.' Yeah, that'll do."

She took a deep breath, and followed on his cue. "I… I a-am a—"

"Oh, and if you stutter, you have to go again.  _And_ , from the top now."

She gave him a look of hopelessness. "I am a strong, c-conf—"

"Again!"

She winced, then hesitantly bobbed her head. Frankly, she though the entire thing was utterly ridiculous.  _She_  felt utterly ridiculous. The tasks. The silly pose. The audience that comprised of a lone Brother Neji. She wanted nothing more than for her primary instincts to take over and make a run for the door, refusing to pay any mind to the cries of her name that would follow undoubtedly. But... at the same time, she recognized that she  _needed_  the extra help, a supportive push, and it admittedly warmed her insides and comforted her knowing that he, her son,  _her_  son, was willing to do that. For  _her_. So she inhaled as hard as she could, and occupied her lungs with as much air as they could fill. She didn't want to disappoint him, she couldn't, not now—so proclaimed as loud as she could in one, passionate breath, "I-am-a-strong-pretty-confident-woman!"

Silence settled for a long, agonizing interval. She waited, for a comment, a critique, anything but an impassive stare.

Boruto eventually raised a hand to his chin and assessed. "Hmmm…  _decent_. A little too fast for my liking, plus you got the order wrong, but decent. We'll work on it. Moving on."

She slouched her shoulders and undid her arched back as if a giant load had been taken off of her, then immediately shifted back into her odd stance for fear of being yelled at.

"Next up, that jacket of yours," Boruto said, pointing to it. "It has  _got_  to go. Head to your room and put on something better. Like a dress, or something. I don't know. Once you're done, we're gonna go straight to Dad's house, and you're gonna repeat that exact line to him. Show him who he  _should_  be chasing after."

And just like that, all of her new found confidence and motivation died in that instant. "B-b-but—"

"Stupid old man, getting all dreamy-eyed like that for Aunt Sakura. Who does he think he is?"

"C-can I—"

"Didn't even come after me. Didn't even come after me! Unbelievable."

"B-Boru—"

"Huh?" he interrupted once more with a genuinely confused expression. "You're still here? C'mon, shoo-shoo. It's already late as it is, and I don't want to have to delay this any further."

"N- _No_!  _Listen to me_!"

Boruto took a few nervous steps back without conscious thought, curling up like he always did whenever she raised her voice and fired him a stare like that.

"I… I-I am your mother," she insisted with narrowed pale eyes, "and… and you will  _not_  boss me around!"

He stood with an anxious posture and sights on his toes, as if  _he_  needed his own life coach. Where the hell did  _that_  come from? Even Neji's face disassociated from the usual impassive expression, instead donning a disturbed one. Though, admittedly, this was perfect. She  _needed_  this. She needed to recognize how impactful tone and body language were, to recognize the substantial difference the two could make.

"Oh, oh I-I'm so sorry, Boruto, I didn't mean to shout like that," she quietly said, quickly reverting back to her usual tics and habits.

He looked at her as if a miniature version of Uncle Lee's head grew from her neck. " _Eh_?! Wh… what are you apologizing for?! That was perfect! Why did you stop?!" he asked, exasperated. 

"Oh, I… I-I didn't, I'm sorry. Should—should I do it again?"

"No! Now it won't be authentic!" He sighed loud and with exaggeration, crashing back down onto his seat. He then ran a hand over his face, pressing down with needless force. "Let's take five; I could really use that beverage right now. It's safe to say we've still got  _a lot_  of work left to do."

A knock on the door provided a much needed distraction.

"Ah, that's probably your father, Hinata," Neji suggested.

"I'll g-go get it." She made a sprint for the door before anyone could protest.

There was another knock, louder and more eager, almost pleading. It was rather unlike her father to be so impatient, and raised anew some questions.

When she opened the door, she expected to see her father stood behind it in his usual composed form. When she opened the door, she expected to greet him as she usually did with a slight, courteous bow. When she opened the door, she expected to see his familiar pales eyes, dispassionate and inexpressive as they always were. What she  _didn't_  expect to see when she opened the door were distinct, bright blue eyes. Or three equally-sized whiskers on either cheek. Or blond hair that could be seen from almost a mile away. Or a blazing orange jumpsuit. She was now displaying all signs of trepidation: burning skin, profuse sweat, heavy breathing and a panic-stricken expression.

"Hey, Hinata, um, is… is Boruto here?"

"N-N-N-N-Na-Na- ** _Naruto_**?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for 100+ kudos. :D
> 
> Enjoy!


	10. Parents

"That bed of yours has enough room for two."

Shikamaru's agape mouth, elevated brows and wide eyes were all dishonest responses. His body simply acted reflexively, but at this point, he wasn't really all that surprised that his mother had suggested that. Recovering authority over his features again, he sealed his lips shut and presented his usual dispassionate stare. He straightened his legs and rose to his feet, then set off on his journey to the opposite end of the table, coming to a halt in front of sand-blonde hair and dim teal eyes, narrowed and watching with caution.

He took Temari's hand in his own, ignoring the look of awe and disbelief on Shikadai's face, ignoring the descending paperwork so that it no longer obscured his father's curious eyes, ignoring the hushed squeal and faint claps from his mother, ignoring the jolt that coursed through her body, ignoring the jolt that coursed through  _his_  body, and pulled her off her seat, towing her away at a pace impatient for escape.

Silence settled in the room once they'd left and the door shut behind them—comfortably for some, not so comfortably for others.

"Well he's eager," mumbled Shikaku through the pen in his mouth, dropping his attention back down to his paperwork.

"Told you it was only a matter of time," Yoshino said, clearly fitting the comfortable silence bracket.

"Mm," he simply responded.

Shikadai alternated his stare between his grandparents, then eventually kept it fixed to the door, an eyebrow raised and nearing his jagged hairline.  _What the hell just happened?_

The two marched, hand in hand, through the long corridor and up the fourteen step staircase.

"What on earth are you doing?" Temari asked, whispering, as she didn't trust her voice enough to deliver the same line any louder without it cracking.

"Saving us from my mother," he replied without looking back.

And once more, just like every other time their hands would brush against each other's or a brief contact was made, her heart raced and bolts of electric impulses fired through every nerve of her system. She despised the feeling, or rather, the little control she had over it. It wasn't a formidable foe she could simply blast away with her fan. It wasn't a difficult elderly she could narrow her eyes to and attempt to overcome with reasoning. It was feelings she'd been  _forced_  to confront and face head on, feelings she'd dodged acknowledging all this time, refusing to give any thought, refusing to admit what they could imply.

Her engines were running entirely on adrenaline and sheer willpower right now. She fastened her grip on his hand, fingers squeezing back and a thumb over his knuckles, to prevent herself from falling. That's all that was to it, she reasoned to herself. She had too much to offer in her role as both a shinobi and as an ambassador than to allow her brain to rot away due to a head injury from a fall down the stairs.

He continued guiding her through the residence, at last coming to rest in front of a door second-furthest from the staircase. He pulled her in, finally letting go to shut the door behind them and lock from intruders.

Temari stood still with a deadpan stare, turning only her head to scan the setting. "This is your room."

"Astute observation, there."

She put a hand on her hip and shot him a scowl. Now  _really_  wasn't the time for his dry remarks. "Okay, how about this,  _why_  are we in your room?"

"I thought I told you already?" he said. "To get us as far away as possible from my difficult, out-of-control,  _troublesome_  mother."

"Yes, but I thought you maybe had a place in mind where your mother couldn't, I don't know,  _actually_  get to us."

"And this is it." He extended his arms out far, gesturing to his little safe haven. "She's not walking in here, not anytime soon—for obvious reasons."

After a prolonged pause, she hummed a noise in agreement; there was little to argue there. His mother had already made her requests painfully clear. Her eyes wondered around the room, which was surprisingly well-maintained, eventually coming to rest on the one spot the two were to supposedly occupy; the bed.

"Is that my stuff?" she asked, initially mistaking her travel bag for a pillow of similar color.

He sighed, blubbering his lips at the end of it. "Mom must've put it here when she had the chance. Figures. Well, sadly for her, she hadn't exactly planned the whole thing through as well as she thought she had, seeing as she forgot about…  _this_ ," he said, opening the doors to his cupboard wide, exposing a set of pillows and neatly-folded covers, all stacked on top of each other. "Give me a few minutes and I'll have something set up over there on the floor, and you can take the bed."

She watched as he carefully disassembled the large tower, unaware of the subtle pout projected on her face. A thought lingered on her mind as he continued to prepare his small shelter for the night, down onto the rough, wooden surface.

"Just covers?" she questioned. "Your body's gonna get sore from that, you know. Don't you have a futon, or something?"

"Yeah, but I think they're in Mom and Dad's room," he said, patting the pillow down on its head.

"Here's another astute observation: go get one."

He scoffed. "What, and face my mother again, then explain to her why we're not sharing the bed together? Nuh-uh, no way. This'll do."

"This will absolutely  _not_  do." She walked over to the bed and reached out for the bag, throwing the strap of it over her shoulder and turning to face him, a sympathetic expression on her. "Look, finish setting it up while I go change. I'll sleep down here, and you take the bed."

He paused, then turned his head to meet her gaze. "What? Why's that?"

"Because this entire mess could've been avoided if I hadn't been so easily dragged to your house. I've already been enough of a burden to you today as it, it wouldn't be fair to then kick you out of your own bed."

He shook his head. "That's not how it works, Temari, and it's not like this is all your fault, either. You're the guest here, so it's only right that you take it."

"Your room, your bed. You sleep on it."

"Temari, I'm not sleeping on the bed while you lay there uncomfortably on the ground. I'm sleeping on the floor."

"Then I'm also sleeping on the floor. Hand me some covers and I'll put them down over here," she said, jabbing a finger at a space on the wooden surface.

He really didn't want to use the t-word right now, but her persistence forced the word to balance on his tongue, swallowing it back down uncomfortably as if it were one of Lady Tsunade's medicines.

"What's the point of that?" he asked, bewildered. "We both may as well just share the bed, then."

"Then it's settled. If you need anything, give me a shout."

She walked with her belongings over to the junction of the bathroom and closed the door behind her, leaving him without an opportunity to respond.

He kept his stare fixed to the door, an eyebrow raised and nearing his jagged hairline. _What the hell just happened?_

* * *

It was him. It was  _him_. With pockets warming hands and a slight chatter to his teeth, he stood outside her door, eager for a response and desperate for one he wanted to hear.

The father of her child. Her… her  _husband_.

 _Her_  husband.

She just couldn't fathom it. How?  _How_? He… he'd never shown any interest in her… did he? Had he always had feeling for her? Was his infatuation with Sakura just some sort of farce? Or perhaps his feeling for her developed later on? But why? Was it an event that triggered them? Was it a slow progression? Had she changed something about herself that helped capture his attention? But what? What was it? Was it just one thing? A number of things? Appearance? A change in hairstyle? A change in what she wore? Had she begun to dress more provocatively? It… it wasn't in her character to do so, but—but if it meant getting his attention, then… then maybe—

"Um, Hinata?"

She shook vigorously in her spot, his usually uplifting voice tearing through her trance like a sharp kunai. She couldn't tell how deep a shade of red she was right now, but she could feel the warmth, the burning  _heat_  radiating from her face.

He neared his face to hers, invading— _violating_  her proximity, surveying her, inspecting every little hair of her eyelashes and every little freckle on her skin.

"Hey," he said, brushing the back of his cool hand against her forehead. "You sick, or something?"

Oh dear.

The yellow of his hair and the black and orange of his jumpsuit were all slowly turning black, black and black.

She recognized what that meant and knew there was little she could do to fight it. Thankfully, she was standing on a thick, resilient rug, which would help to cushion her fall, preventing further trauma to the brain she imagined was worsening due to the repeated falls onto her head. With legs made of fluid and a head the weight of a feather, every joint and every muscle in her body unwound as heavy lids began to fall over her eyes.

"Mom? What's going on?"

Her blurred vision became clear again, and the strength was back in her feet. She reached out for the handle of the door and held on to it as tight as she could, readjusting her unstable balance. That… that'd never happened before. Regaining consciousness again after the point of no return. She turned her head round to see Boruto stood behind her, a drink in hand and concern on his face. Was… that it? Was that what happened?

Her son's voice wrought with worry was able to do that?

Naruto thrust his head through the opening of the door and glanced over her shoulder.

Boruto in response spat out the juice occupying his mouth in a rather comedic, exaggerated fashion. "Dad?!"

Relief began to settle on Naruto's face. "Boruto?"

Confusion began to settle on  _Boruto's_  face. "D- _Dad_?!"

"Boruto!" Naruto followed, that powerful grin of his now on display.

"What are you doing here?!" Boruto cried, legs bent and a finger pointing accusingly at him.

But, to tell the truth, he was actually quite… touched. Flattered, even. He came. He  _actually_ came. Against his wishes and through the harsh winds of the night, he stood in front of her door with that same, warm, comforting smile on his face.

"I may have had something to do with that," Neji said, approaching. "I had requested that a number of our clansmen go and collect Naruto to have him stay here for the night."

Oh.

And here he was, crediting his dad, praising him, thinking that he came here on his own accord. Thinking that maybe, for once, he'd actually do the right damn thing for his own damn family. But no, just like every other time, he was lead into a false sense of reality due to some misplaced faith in his stupid old man.

"Huh? What are you talking about? Clansmen?" Naruto questioned, sincerely puzzled.

Neji tilted his head to the side. "You weren't approached by my people?"

Naruto shook head slow, displaying both sides of his profile clearly.

"Then what prompted you to come here?" Neji asked, now equally as puzzled.

He raised both his hands and placed the two behind the back of his head, leaning its weight onto them. "I just wanted to see Boruto."

Oh.

Boruto cast his eyes downwards. His stomach flipped, turned and curled, sorta like before, but, it felt… good, this time around. It was a pleasant feeling. He then turned his head to the side and bit his lip down, fighting off the smile that begged to be displayed. He couldn't. No way. Absolutely not. His dad wouldn't be off the hook  _that_ easily. First of all, the correct answer would've been that he wanted to see both him  _and_  Mom. Secondly, he hadn't even apologized for his damn arm, yet! Had he even noticed it?

Third, he's still yet to treat Mom properly.

"Hinata, aren't going to let him in?" Neji asked.

She stood, barely, with shaking hands holding onto the handle for dear life, unconsciousness threatening her again. Here?  _He's_  staying  _here_? She opened the door further, running the thought through her head over and over and over again.  _He_ would be staying  _here_  with  _them_ , eating dinner  _here_  with  _them_ , sleeping  _here_  with  _them_ , waking up and having breakfast  _here_  with  _them_ , with her and her son. She and him and their kids. She'd envisioned this whenever the opportunity presented itself, and it felt exactly like that; a vision. Except it wasn't, it was real and she knew it because she could reach out and she could touch him and she would  _feel_  something, just like his hand was reaching out for her right now and landed right onto her shoulder.

"You should really go to bed, Hinata, you don't look so good."

If there was any more juice in Boruto's mouth, he would've spat that back out, too.

Stepping into the property, and all over Boruto's respect for him, Naruto walked past his son and his dropped jaw to properly greet Neji. Boruto snuck a glance over at Hinata to see her frozen in place, an unblinking stare at where he once stood. Her face was bright red right now, and she was justifiably angry, Boruto thought. How could he? Taking her heart, tearing it apart, throwing it to the ground and then relieving himself all over it— _that's_  the equivalent of what he just did. You were supposed to tell her how good she looks, stupid old man! Not that!

Boruto breathed out slow through his nose and allowed his body to slump a little. No matter. Both his parents were still here, and both still conscious. He knew that it wasn't going to be an easy task, and he certainly knew that he wasn't going to raise his hands and admit defeat  _that_  easily.

_Uh, no offense, Shikadai._

He was too stubborn like his dad and too relentless like his mom to even entertain the thought of giving up. He planned on using every single trick he had up his sleeve, hidden in his footwear and in his back pocket, and by God, he would have them proposing to each other before the night was over. But first…

"Go change."

Hinata jerked in her spot once more. She stood by the door, not having moved the entire time, and looked back behind her to see Boruto with a hand on his hip and a stern expression on his face. She was beginning to fear that look.

An unintelligible noise croaked past her lips in response.

"Change your clothes. Remember the dress I told you to go put on?" he followed.

She shook her head, not intending on vocalizing a reply to his request—or demand, rather.

"Fine, suit yourself. But, uh, for the record, those stains all over your clothes? Yeah, not a good look."

She took a moment to register his words, then abruptly arranged herself into an awkward pose, pulling on her jacket for closer inspection. It was the drink he'd forcibly spat out earlier, a myriad of small, orange ovals and dots smeared all over her back and behind her left thigh. She looked up from the stains to his face, a smug, mischievous grin plastered across it.

* * *

Shikamaru sat on the edge of the bed, waiting. What he was waiting for he wasn't necessarily sure. He'd already changed into his sleep attire. He'd already cleaned himself up in the bathroom across the hall. He could've sealed his eyelids shut already and drifted out of consciousness. But something prevented him from doing so.

The door to the bathroom opened steadily all the way.

She wore a simple outfit; a tradition Suna clothing that was plain in design, shielding her arms and covering her ankles; comfortable for the harsh conditions of the desert. Her hair was distanced from the usual four pigtails, free from the shackles of her hairbands, with a few strands floating upwards against the effects of gravity. He imagined that she forced it into something a little more presentable for the occasion.

He felt guilty seeing her like this. He recognized how much maintaining her image meant to Temari, and anything other than the strong, tough kunoichi from Suna left her feeling vulnerable and out of place.

He maneuvered his eyes away from her, instead staring intently at the plain wall in front of him. He wasn't quite sure how long he stayed like that, not having moved a single muscle in his body. Not even when he heard footsteps hesitantly approaching the bed, or when he heard a gentle blow of air, or when he watched the orange room abruptly fade to blue, or when he felt the bed push down slowly.

Feeling adventurous, he snuck in a quick glance to her side of the bed. She was lying down with her back to him, just like his was to her. Only then did he feel like he could now rest his head down onto the pillow.

They laid like that, a deafening silence filling the room. A silence that infuriated Shikamaru.

But why? Where was the issue in that? It was late and they needed the sleep, it was only appropriate that it'd be quiet. And yet, for whatever reason, it still felt misplaced. Absence of sound was a rarity between the two, much to the surprise of many. They weren't often silent with each other, and if they were, it was comfortable.  _Not_  whatever this was.

He sighed through his nose.  _Troublesome._

"Hey, Temari?"

* * *

Boruto laid stiff on the sofa, hoping that it would engulf him whole soon. He couldn't believe it. He never would've imagine that he'd be so exhausted from being with his dad.

And it hadn't even been a whole hour yet since he'd arrived.

He rambled on and on about how much progress he'd made with incorporating wind style into his Rasengan.  _Tch_ ,  _big whoop_ , Boruto thought. He himself had already managed to do that with lightning style, and he  _still_  hadn't the slightest idea how he did it.

The clatter of heels against the creaking, wooden stairs successfully drew the eyes of everybody in the room. What maintained those curious stares was the figure producing the sounds, slowly approaching into shot. Boruto pushed himself up, arm at a right angle and an elbow pressing against the firm surface.

Hinata took slow, delicate steps down the staircase, each one giving a more clear view of her drastic transformation. She wore a white yukata, with intricate patterns of vibrant, violet petals woven into it, all held together by a piece of purple fabric strapped around her waist. Her fringe remained curtained over her forehead, but her hair was now tied back into a ponytail, loose strands that escaped her hairclip instead positioned behind her ear.

She looked like royalty.

"Woah," Naruto blurted without conscious thought.

As if a spell had been broken from his voice, Boruto snapped from his mesmerized stare. He stole a glance at his dad to see him watching with awe, seemingly trapped in a spell himself.

He nudged Naruto's arm repeatedly. "She looks pretty stunning in that, don't you think, Dad?"

"She…" Naruto began, pausing to moisturize his parched lips with strokes of his tongue.

Boruto beamed a victorious smirk, both surprised and relieved at how soon the plan was coming to fruition. He clasped his hands together—just one more little push should do the trick. " _She_ …?"

"She… she looks super  _weird_  without the jacket!"

Boruto's smile fell from his face almost instantly.

"Wow! It's like she's a completely different person now! Hey, anybody know where Hinata went?" He placed a hand aligned horizontally above his narrowed eyes, as if to amplify his field of view, searching frantically around the room.

Boruto didn't laugh. The disappointment on her face and the disgust on his own hadn't allowed it. He did settle with a hoarse growl under his breath, however.

Another growl was audible; louder, more vicious. Boruto was sure it hadn't come from him. Well, not from his mouth, that is. He looked down, and right on cue, another howl roared from his stomach. He looked up at his mother, feeling the corner of his mouth twitch upwards.  _Try and mess this one up, Dad._

"Man, I'm hungry," Boruto said, holding his stomach tight. "Hey, Mom, you think we could have ramen for dinner tonight?"

Both parents' heads whipped towards Boruto, who performed his best starving act. They then turned to face each other.

"Can we?" Naruto calmly asked, face lighting with hope.

Hinata immediately shifted her eyes away from his and kept them fixed on Boruto, hoping that he'd recognize her internal struggles and offer some form of support; a hand gesture, a response, something,  _anything_.

He was completely oblivious.

She was on her own now. Hinata looked back at his eyes, boring into hers. She thought of her brief training with Boruto not too long ago, running through the mental notes she'd prepared in her head. She knew he was watching and she knew she had to make a good impression, for the both of them. She gathered every last ounce of confidence—and self-respect—she had in her, and settled herself into the bizarre pose from before.

"Of course you can," she said. Her composed expression was completely misleading; she celebrated internally at her delivery—without a stutter and at a respectable volume. She looked back at Boruto, who cheered her on in silence with a clenched fist in the air and a proud tear on his eyelid, filling her with warmth and a sense of accomplishment.

She turned to Naruto once more, who was retaliating with his own tender, appreciative smile.

And of course, this prompted her to sprint full-throttle out the room and into the kitchen, with a face so vibrant and red that it seemed as if it was seconds away from detonating.

Boruto watched the scene develop in front of him, dumbfounded, then laid back down onto the sofa, legs crossed firmly and a hand behind his head. He was in for a long night.

* * *

"Hey, Temari?"

Her back was still to him, showing no intention of responding.

"Oi, I know you're still awake."

"You know, you're surprisingly talkative all of a sudden for someone who was ignoring me up until now," she said.

"Hey," he said, turning his head round enough to see her, "you weren't exactly looking for a conversation yourself, either."

"Why bother if the person's just going to, oh, I don't know, walk out the restaurant anyway?"

He raised an eyebrow, despite her not being able to see it. "You're still thinking of that?"

She said nothing, that damn infuriating silence settling once again.

"Sorry," he blurted suddenly.

This encouraged  _her_  head to turn round.

"For ignoring you, back at the restaurant. I… I shouldn't have done that. It's just," he briefly held his breath, then kissed his teeth, "with Ino and Asuma and Chōji, it just, I don't know, things… things just got a little too hectic for me. I needed to get away for all that. I would've ignored anyone, even my own mother at that moment. I'm sorry."

She kept her teal eyes on the back of his head as she ran his apology through her own, turning eventually back around to face the wall in front of her again.

"Don't be sorry," she said.

"No, Temari just liste—"

"Don't be sorry to me."

He turned his head to her again. "What do you mean?"

"You don't think he's noticed? The cold shoulder act? The pretending that he doesn't exist? The ignoring?"

He turned to the wall once more, placing a hand between the pillow and his ear. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Come on, Shikamaru, give the kid some credit. He is yours, after all." She chuckled humourlessly, then fell silent. "Ours," she said more quietly.

He shifted his body so that he was now staring up at the ceiling. "I don't get it," he said. "Am I missing something here? How long exactly  _was_  I in my room? One minute you're just as distant as I am, the next the two of you are getting along as if you've actually raised him the entire time. How are you so calm about the whole thing?"

She laughed more sincerely this time, albeit slightly unpleasantly.

"Calm? Don't get it twisted, Nara, this hasn't exactly been all that easy for me, either. Today was undoubtedly the most humiliating day of my life; and yes, that does include the time I lost to you in the Chūnin Exams."

"You didn't lose to me," he corrected.

She really hoped that he could see her scowl through the dark. "We are not having this conversation again."

He said nothing, though he vehemently disagreed with her in silence.

"Look, I'm only gonna tell you this once, so listen carefully. If I can trust you enough to bear your children, then I'm sure I can trust you enough with this."

She joined him in looking up at the ceiling, the two now laying side by side. "When I saw our son sitting on the hospital bed, bloodied and bruised, and…  _alone_ , looking back at me with those green eyes for help, I… I saw my little brother Gaara sitting in his room, alone, similar green eyes looking at me for help. He was also hurt, but in a different sort of way. And you want to know what I did about it, Shikamaru?"

He nodded his head slowly, forgetting that she could hardly see him. She responded anyway.

"Nothing. I did nothing, Shikamaru. I left him there, still hurt and still alone. I looked away and I walked off and I did  _nothing_. Why? Maybe because I was scared, or maybe it was because I was clueless, or maybe it was because I was a coward, or maybe it was combination of all three, or maybe it was even a combination of a whole lot more."

She covered her eyes with the back of her hand, voice wrought with ache. "I don't know Shikamaru, I really don't know. All I know is that day in and day out he'd always looked at me the same way and day in and day out I would do nothing, until one day he started looking at me and everybody else differently. His eyes didn't say 'help me' anymore, they said something darker, something more terrifying, and I let that happen.  _I_  let that happen. I could've gone into his room and reassured him everything would be okay, but  _I_  chose to do  _nothing_."

He heard her sniff every now and again. A silence he thought was necessary settled for a short while before he spoke.

"It's not your fault, you know." She scoffed.

"Spare me of all that. Believe me, I've tried to convince myself for years and it's never gotten anywhere."

"You were young, Temari," he said. "You can't just shoulder all of the blame like that."

"Then what about when I was 12? Or 13? Or 14? 15? 16? Was I still too young then?"

"You said it yourself, didn't you? His eyes said something else by then. There wasn't much you could've done."

"Oh, right, but some kid from a completely different village could and  _did_?"

"They shared similar stories that only the two of them could ever relate to. I mean, if Naruto couldn't do it, I'm not quite sure who else possibly could have."

"You're too lenient on me," she said, tone more expressive.

"And you're too harsh on yourself."

She let out her most obnoxious scoff yet. " _Please_. Is this really coming from Mr. I'm-The-Sole-And-Only-Reason-My-Friends-All-Nearly-Died-Trying-To-Save-Uchiha?"

He furrowed his brows at that. "It was my fault, though. I shouldn't have allowed my comrades to be put in those positions in the first place. If I'd planned ahead better from the start an—"

"We are not having this conversation again, either."

She turned her body ninety degrees so that she faced him. "Look, somehow—someway I ended up diverging from what I was trying to say here, but the point is: I'm never letting that happen again. I won't ever walk away and do nothing, not with those eyes asking for help. Forget about me and you. Forget about… us."

He turned also, so that they were now face to face.

"Forget about all of that for now," she said softly. "Just... just focus on Shikadai. Focus on protecting him, helping him get back to where he needs to be. He needs his parents right now. Both of them.  _Please_ … don't make the same mistake that I did. Don't do nothing."

"...Don't do nothing," he quietly repeated to himself.

Silence filled the room once more, a silence that infuriated Temari this time. She chewed on her bottom lip, waiting anxiously for a response.

Shikamaru snickered to himself. "How troublesome."

She'd never been more relieved to hear those words, unable to restraint the giant smile spread across her face.

"You have a way with steering me in the right path, huh?"

"Well," she whispered, "it's why I'm here for you, isn't it?" 

Both their eyes slowly widened in the dark. That line probably didn't have the same meaning to it that it might have had just a day ago.

"Uh, goodnight," she said, louder, turning to face the wall again.

"Um, right," he said, doing the same, "that."

The two slept that night, facing away from each other.

* * *

With his dad away on a short, little bathroom break, Boruto began commencing the next phase of his plan. He hid a number of chairs that surrounded the large, round dinner table so that only four remained. Two of them were fairly isolated from the rest, while the other two were about a shoulder-grazing distance away from each other; Mom and Dad were to take those.

Once Hinata finished laying down the last of the bowls down onto the table and was seemingly ready to seat herself beside it, Boruto jumped to his feet and held to a wrist tight, towing her toward the two neighboring chairs. A nice little gesture without any real intent, she wrongly assumed. He then stood behind the seat adjacent to hers, closely watching Neji's movements, preparing to step in and seat himself onto it temporarily should Neji decide to take it.

It was completely unnecessary, considering he hadn't even once looked in their general direction, and appeared content with sitting down onto one of the isolated chairs. Boruto couldn't help the thought that Neji was completely aware of his intentions, and just silently took part. Regardless, Boruto rushed towards the remaining remote chair. Now all but one was taken, leaving his dad with little choice in the matter.

Naruto walked into the room, drying off his wet hands against his thighs. He sniffed slow and repeatedly, then began gravitating subconsciously toward the scent of the dishes. He scanned the table with admiration, before coming to a slow, eventual realization of the strange absence of chairs.

A knowing smirk crept to Boruto's face once more. Surely even he couldn't mess this one up.

And of course he began walking towards the one chair Boruto lazily hid behind the plant pot. And of course he held it by its legs and lifted it right off the ground. And of course he carried it over his shoulder and towards the dinner table. And of course he put it down right beside Boruto and sat himself down onto it. And of course he turned his head and smiled at Boruto, as if he wasn't utterly furious at him and was trying his hardest not to fire back a scowl.

Naruto clapped his hands together. "Thanks for the meal!"

"Yeah, thanks," Boruto grumbled, turning his attention down to his bowl of ramen.

It looked and smelt nothing short of incredible, to be blunt. He imagined the taste of it wasn't too far from that, either. Boruto knew that his mother was an excellent cook and always delivered in that aspect whenever she needed to. Sadly, however, his absent appetite and disinterest in ramen prevented him from properly appreciating it. At least not nearly as much as the slurping man beside him, who gobbled through the contents of his bowl, dependent entirely on his nose for breath.

Boruto's eyes briefly widened.  _That's it!_

He dug his chopsticks deep into the noodles, then raised it towards his mouth. Exaggerated slurps, content moans, loud exhalations, all of it was necessary for his act.

"Wow, this is great, Mom!" Boruto said, with an extra sigh for the occasion. "Hey, Dad, what do you think?"

He ran the back of his hand across his mouth. "It's… so… good," Naruto mumbled through mouthfuls of ramen, long intervals between each word as a result of the swallowing.

It… it worked. It  _actually_  worked. His dad had actually said something that didn't fuel his desire to bang his head rhythmically against the table. Boruto stole a glance at Hinata, who had her head inclined forward and a gentle smile on her lips, intensifying his own smile.

Naruto cleared the passageway in his throat, then thrust his fist into the air. "But make no mistake about it, nothing comes close to the ramen at Ichiraku's!"

Boruto didn't even try to hide his furrowed brows or twitching eye or deep frown this time, intensified also due to his mother's now absent smile.

"Huh? What's wrong, Boruto?" Naruto asked. He jabbed his chopsticks at Boruto's bowl. "Don't you want that?"

Boruto didn't reply. He penetrated an elbow deep into the table and rested his cheek against the palm of his hand. Facing away from his dad, he grumpily ate his ramen. No, frankly, he didn't want it, but he didn't want his stupid old man to have it even more.

There was a loud knock on the door, prompting everyone to lift their heads and look up.

"I'd imagine that's your father this time," Neji said.

"I-I'll get it," Hinata said, pushing her chair out and making her way towards it.

Boruto watched as she trotted in the direction of the knocks, a strange urgency behind every thud. His eyes then came to rest on his dad, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat, lips parting then closing shut again. Boruto raised a brow, alarmed if not even a little concerned to see him acting so uncharacteristically.

"Hey… Neji?" he said, finally.

Neji turned his head, expecting to meet his gaze, only to see it set to his bowl. "What is it?"

"Um, thanks... for having me over."

A loud and obnoxious "huh" threatened to escape Boruto's lips. That's it?  _That's_  what was making him so tense and uncomfortable?

"It… it's nice to eat with others for a change," Naruto followed, running his fingers through the blond locks on the back of his head. The nervousness in his voice wasn't quite successful in hiding the pure relief on his face.

Boruto's expression softened drastically. That's right. Gramps and Gran weren't around for the company or home-cooked meals. What was something of a norm to Boruto meant so much more to his dad. It was infrequent and it was precious and it was  _meaningful_. What probably would've another night of cheap, store-bought cup of ramen alone in a cold, dim-lit apartment was instead a large, generous bowl of it, freshly prepared and easily rivals that of Ichiraku's—regardless of what his dad would insist—surrounded by the people that matter most to him.

"There's no need to thank us. You are family now, after all," Neji said, that rare smile of his surfacing again.

Naruto lowered his head down even further, brushing a finger against the lowest point of his nose to obscure his quivering lips.

"Yeah," he said after a lull, looking up with hands behind his head to present that large, wide-mouthed, goofy smile they were more familiar with. One so iconic and powerful and could somehow always tempt Boruto to imitate with a smile of his own.

The door slid open once more to reveal another set of pale eyes and long, dark hair. His skin had yet to shrivel, but the man was unmistakably Hiashi Hyūga, father to Hinata and grandfather to Boruto. He was a remarkable, gifted ninja, and the current head of the Hyūga clan. This was easy to conclude even if the knowledge hadn't been made clear prior, from the way all eyes followed his every little movement and silence settled as he spoke. Boruto's gaze wondered to his mother, stood closely behind him, hurt on her face and ache in her eyes, as if she'd just been scolded. A sight that ignited pure, seething rage inside of him.

Naruto pushed his bowl forward and walked eagerly towards the impassive man.

He bowed slightly, then extended a hand out to him. "Naruto Uzumaki!"

Hiashi refused to even look down at the hand, instead keeping his gaze on him, cold and piercing and hostile, looking at him like  _they_  always did, which prompted Naruto to slowly retract his hand. He then turned his head round toward Hinata, composed, inexpressive, and yet unquestionably disgusted.

"You married a  _demon_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, just last chapter I was thanking you guys for 100+ kudos, now we're already at 200+ kudos. Thank you so much! :')


	11. Disbelief

"You married a  _demon_?"

The occupants of the room all shared disturbed looks. As unlikely as it was, if he didn't have their attention before, he certainly had it now.

Naruto's eyes widened—in shock? In pain? Boruto couldn't tell.

"Wha...?" Dad said, heartache in his voice immediately answering that question.

Boruto looked back and forth between his dad and Gramps. Their relationship had been nothing but cordial and supportive on Boruto's end, so where did this... disapproval stem from?

He had an inkling that this wasn't going be the typical family gathering. His mom stood back with eyes on the tiled wooden floor, refusing to witness the altercation she knew would thrive in front of her. She looked unsettled, her chest heaving visibly and her lips strained from quivering. He wanted to approach her, embrace her, to ask her who did this to her. But he wasn't a fool. He knew.

Boruto had already noticed that his dad's treatment among his peers alone was a little… strange. Absent was the title "Lord," instead often substituted for "idiot." That was a given, considering Dad still had a long way to go until he was where he was at in the future, but still… his treatment, the lack of respect, it was insulting. Sickening. And as he stared into his grandad's eyes, inexpressive and yet still somehow so emotionally-fueled, he knew this had to have been over much more than trivial things like status or rankings.

"Many of  _our_  people fallen, defending this village from this… this  _monster_ , and you welcome it with open arms? Into  _our_  home?"

Monster? Fallen people? Boruto's eyes searched frantically round the room, landing on his mom, on Uncle Neji, wanting somebody, anybody to just clarify already. Dad? A  _monster_? A scoff almost erupted from Boruto. How could one possible use  _that_  of all words to acknowledge his dad? He wasn't the one pushing the other into a corner, antagonizing and slandering and treating them as someone lesser. Somebody  _worse_  than lesser.

"I was there, at the Chūnin Exams a few years ago. I saw what it was capable of. I saw its powers in use. The power that slaughtered many of our own 16 years ago. Potential, that much is unquestionable. A great weapon for the village, perhaps, never amounting to anything more."

Never amounting to anything more? Boruto pursed his lips and held his breath, fighting hard internally to restrain a growl. His dad had certainly amounted to something far,  _far_  more valuable than just some destructive  _weapon_ —so much more. And how convenient that that little tidbit hadn't made the rounds yet. He looked up at his dad, wanting him to let it be known, to roar and scream from the top of his lungs, quickly disproving Grandad's confident statement with the blunt, hard-hitting  _truth_.

But he didn't. He didn't do any of that. His dad instead took a step a back and looked away from Grandad's overwhelming gaze, staring at his feet and slowly shaking his head. With his face rumpled in hurt and disbelief, he opened his mouth and croaked, "No, that… that's not true…"

His dad stood stiff, like a deer in the headlights. He'd always struck him as someone who'd challenge others beliefs, someone who'd raise his head high and middle finger even higher. Someone who'd  _never_  go back on his word. And yet he just stood there, frozen, every bit of confidence ejected from him, as if  _he_ , of all people, needed to be convinced of his own words. Past, future, didn't matter, this was  _not_  the dad that he knew. Where was the dad that would shout from the rooftops insisting that he'd become Hokage, not accepting refusal? Not giving a damn what others thought? Why? Why had Grandad's words managed to elicit such an uncharacteristic response? As if those words had managed to pierce deep into Dad's heart, deeper than any kunai could.

"Lord Hiashi," Neji stepped in, "this isn't necessary at all—"

" _Silence_ ," he interrupted, snapping his head around and firing a finger at Neji, prompting him to recoil. "Do you not understand the barrage of comments I've had to endure listening to prior to coming here?  _Comments_ , like how the Hyūga name had  _tarnished_  and been made into a _joke_?"

Was it wrong to want to sock your own grandad in the mouth? It was probably wrong to want to sock your own grandad in the mouth. But Boruto  _really_  wanted to sock his own grandad in the mouth.

"I so hope that I had already fallen in combat long before then, if  _this_  is what's to represent the Hyūga."

Repeatedly. He wanted to sock his grandad's mouth repeatedly. He wanted those false teeth to come much sooner.

"Never mind combat. Perhaps a self-inflicted wound would be a more suitable escape from this fate."

Boruto's fist trembled by his side, a throbbing vein making itself visible on his temple. He pulled his lips back and snarled, brows furrowed as far as they could go, eyes narrowed and flashing red, vision obscured by an unruly fire. He refused to just stand idly by on the side, watching his dad stand in front of a train track of hurling abuse like that. If Dad was content with not saying anything and defending himself, then he could do whatever the hell he damn pleased. He on the other hand intended to step forward and unclench his jaw and separate his lips and  _unleash_  a devastating verbal onslaught, debunking every single nonsensical comment and  _daring_  his grandad,  _challenging_  him to make another.

But he'd already been beaten to the punch.

"That's enough, Father."

Hinata stood in front of him, both of them, shielding the two with her commanding presence. She spoke in that low tone she often did with, and yet the disdain, the pure, uncontrollable frustration still laced in her voice.

Her demeanor visibly flustered and discomposed, her own hands now trembling by her sides and balled up into fists. Significant, as fists were absent from the Hyūga's fighting style; it was looked upon as something rude, something insulting and distasteful, a poor representation of the clan. The Hyūga were always taught about composure and self-control, but the way her piercing gaze possessed an intensity with more weight to it than her own father's, it was clear to Boruto that years worth of training had long been abandoned.

This was it. This was what he wanted to see from her.

 _This_  was Mom.

The atmosphere was ripe with overbearing tension. Pale eyes staring through each others and deep into voids.

Hiashi broke eye contact first, turning away, slowly, yet still forcing everyone to stifle gasps and restrain the surprise on their faces. Everyone but Mom that is, who stood her ground and maintained her hostile stare. He walked towards the door in his usual unhurried pace, her head turning with him, watching him closely. He stopped in front of the door and clutched on to the handle, then turned his head and met her gaze once more.

"I didn't think you could disgrace the family name any more than you already have."

Hinata abruptly undid her stiff posture and lost the strength in her fists keeping them clenched, her face settling into a pained expression. Her head fell forward as Hiashi stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Once they heard the  _click_ , Naruto instantly let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, just as Boruto put his good hand on his knee, almost collapsing to the floor. Had he really come  _that_  close to threatening his gramps? He threw off the jacket draped over his shoulders and pressed a hand to his chest, taking slow, deep breaths to calm his nerves. He glanced up at Hinata between breaths, her entire body shivering and her head sinking even lower.

"Mom?"

His voice acted as a trigger for her retreat, engaging in a full-blown sprint to the door of the room Boruto wasn't familiar with.

"Wait, Hinata," Naruto pleaded, taking a step forward and jabbing a hand in her direction, "wait!"

Even his dad's cries fell on deaf eyes. She burst through the door and quickly locked it shut, leaving behind a trail of scarce droplets that only Boruto had noticed.

He lowered his head in defeat. Dad occasionally snuck a glance over at the door, as if struggling internally to decide if he should approach her or not. With a sigh, Boruto looked away, knowing she probably wouldn't open the door anyway, and deciding that he just didn't have any more energy left in him to keep scrutinizing his dad. Or stay standing up. He crouched down, careful not to undo Aunt Sakura's work on his arm as he crossed his legs. Neji rushed to his aid once more, but Boruto tuned him out completely.

"I give up," he muttered to himself.

* * *

Shikadai sat out in the porch reclined against a wooden pillar. One of his legs was folded and being used to support the weight of his arm, the other stretch out in front of him. His dad, wherever he was right now, would've insisted that today was an ideal day to watch the clouds, so Shikadai thought he'd sit back, look up and give it another shot, and hell, who knows? Perhaps today would finally be the day he recognizes the appeal of Dad's one favorite pastime and adopts it as one of his own.

He didn't. Once again, his eyes wondered off to something more interesting to look at somewhere over on the exterior of the house or the garden to his right. Nevertheless, he took advantage of the silence around him and went on to fulfilling his main purpose for coming out here: getting the gears in his brain turning. He thought about a lot things.

He thought of Boruto, and wondered how he was doing after the incident yesterday. He was probably going to give him a visit later on in the day to check up on him, seeing as there wasn't much to do here. He'd probe his arm and bug him for a little bit before the two began piecing together a strategy—for  _him_.

The mysterious, hooded man. He thought hard about his strengths. He thought about  _their_  strengths and how they would fair against his. He tried to make sense of his abilities, to not a whole lot of avail, before his thoughts drifted off onto something else.

He thought about Inojin and Chōchō, and how much he missed them. He'd like to think they were pretty worried about him, too.

He thought about his mom, and how she'd finally gotten around to having that meeting with the Hokage, the one that was oh-so important an ambassador slash jōnin of her caliber just  _had_  to be sent to do it. Never mind the major role she played in the country's military forces, or, more importantly, the fact that the contents of the scrolls she needed to deliver weren't even really all that valuable, bordering on worthless, arguably, and if they  _did_  somehow end up being defiled by enemy hands, he questioned if there'd even be any real negative consequences brought about as a result. Yup. She definitely had no other ulterior motive. None at all.

Shikadai laughed. His mom wouldn't be her if she wasn't her usual stubborn, brash, troublesome self.

He thought back to when she was on the verge of tears during  _that_  incident, and how sleep completely eluded him that same night, unsettled, no,  _haunted_  by the imagery. How overwhelmed and deteriorated and broken his dad was, a shell of his former self, and was at a point where even she couldn't do anything to help.

He ran a regretful hand through his hair, hoping to soothe the headache he should've suspected would develop the pace of a raging inferno.

"Yo."

He cast his eyes upwards. It was his dad, leaning against the door, a hand stuffed in his pocket and the other holding a shogi board by his side. He then pushed off from the door and walked towards him, stopping a distance, well, about the size of a shogi board plus some leg room, then drew out a small red bag from out his pocket, presumably containing the pieces, and gave it a shake.

Shikadai looked at him, stunned, in complete disbelief, as if he couldn't for the love of him figure out his dad's intentions despite how  _painfully_  obvious they were. It's just that, Dad had already given him more attention in this one minute alone than he had practically all of yesterday. He then tossed the bag of tiles right onto his lap. Shikadai looked at it, then back at his dad's usual blank expression, then back down at the bag, repeating this a few more times.

"Know how to play?" Dad asked eventually, probably in response to his dumbstruck expression. He wasn't quite sure  _why_  that successfully broke him from his dazed state, or why he nodded as fast as he did, or especially why the corner of his lips quirked up like that.

"I can keep up."

Shikadai folded his other leg and brushed both hands over his thighs as Shikamaru placed the board down between them. He arranged his own legs into a similar stance while Shikadai poured the pieces out from the bag onto the center of the board. The two then retrieved their respective pieces from the small pile and began assembling their armies.

They did this in silence, which dragged on even into the first couple minutes of their match. No pieces of real value had been lost from either side yet. For a brief moment only, Shikadai allowed his paranoia to dial up and the conspiracy theorist in him to take over, wondering to himself if this was another one of the hooded man's tricks. Nothing as of yet seemed too out of the ordinary, but he kept alert. That is, until he lost a worthy piece this time, the Knight, and grunted involuntarily. Careless of him and shouldn't have happened, but in his defense he had much bigger threats to be concerned about.

"That hurt," said Shikadai.

Dad smirked. "That was warm-up."

Never mind. A shogi match where he'd been led into a false sense of complacency followed by an unintentional back-handed remark. Yeah, definitely Dad alright.

They continued playing in silence again. He wasn't expecting much else other than the usual result, but that hadn't calmed his growing desire to demonstrate to his dad that he was no push-over at the game. Which was odd, considering he never really cared all that much about "proving himself" to his dad on any other occasion prior this one, and played entirely for the thrill of it. But something about Younger Dad ignited that in him.

"How are Chōji and Ino in the future?" Dad asked, prompting Shikadai to look up from the board. "Good?"

Shikadai nodded. "Yeah," he said belatedly, only after he'd made a play he was happy with. He didn't have much else to add on to that.

Shikamaru put a tile down, making a loud  _tick_  sound, then said, "You mentioned Chōji's wife before, didn't you?" Shikadai nodded, just noticing the hint of a smile on his dad's lips. "Who is she?"

"Does a 'Karui' sound familiar?" Shikadai asked. Dad shook his head in response, unsurprisingly. "She's from Kumogakure," he clarified.

"The Cloud?" Shikamaru repeated, now stunned himself. "How did  _that_  come about?" Shikadai shrugged. As bluntly said as it was, he had to wonder this himself.

"Well, alright then," said Shikamaru, re-positioning another tile. "Ino and Sai?"

"Mm-hm."

"At least that one makes a little more sense." The two snorted, neither taking their eyes off the board. "Inojin, was it? He get his looks from his mom or Dad?"

"Hmm, I'd say probably more from Aunt Ino," said Shikadai. "He has her blonde hair, at least…"

"Ah…"

"…and Uncle Sai's pale skin."

Shikamaru recoiled away from the board and pulled his lips back. "Ouch."

Shikadai snickered under his breath. In defense of Inojin, he made it work.

"And Chōchō? She a gentle one like her old man?"

A scoff threatened to erupt from Shikadai. "If only." Actually, that was a lie. He hoped Chōchō would never change for a damn person. "The only thing they really even have in common with each other is… well, uh…"

"Love for potato of chips?" Shikamaru answered for him.

Shikadai laughed hard at that. "Right," he said, "let's go with that."  _His dad_  laughed hard at that. He'd forgotten how much he missed seeing him like this.

"How about you?" Shikamaru asked after eventually composing himself. "Chūnin yet?"

Shikadai shook his head. "I did take the exams once, but I lost in the semis." Or robbed. Robbed was probably a better word.

"Well, you at least got one win under your belt, right? That has to count for something."

"I guess. What about you?"

Shikamaru cast his head back, an eyebrow slightly higher than the other. "What about me?"

"How many matches did you win?" Drats. He hadn't meant to let the smirk slip so soon.

Shikamaru frowned. "She told you about that, didn't she?"

Shikadai confirmed with a nod. "She's not all that happy about it either."

"Trust me, I know," Shikamaru groaned, running a hand through his hair. "She's made that  _very_ clear plenty of times already."

"I think she wants a rematch."

"She's made that clear a bunch of times too," he said, eliciting a laugh from both of them. He then captured another of Shikadai's pawns. "How's Asuma Sensei?"

The tile slipped from Shikadai's grasp just as he was putting it down, disrupting nearby pieces. He froze. His heart rate soared. He tried his best to recover and pretend that nothing had happened, but he knew it was only a matter of seconds before his dad commented on his trembling hand, struggling to grab a hold of the piece.

"Oh."

Both Naras looked over to the garden where the familiar voice came from. There they saw the familiar blonde pigtails, the familiar teal eyes, and the familiar iron tessen.

God, did he love his mom. Or her timing. Whichever was responsible for the giant wave of relief that he felt.

She looked stunned, perhaps even more stunned than he did when approached earlier by his dad, and presumably for that exact reason, as evident from the way she observed the scene before her so attentively, as if she couldn't for the love of her figure out Dad's intentions, which, again, should be absurd given how painfully obvious they were.

"Meeting's over?" Shikamaru asked.

"Yeah…" That's it. She stopped to stare again, completely forgetting to close her mouth shut. "Yeah, we… we finished a little while ago."

The corners of her lips then raised into… a smile? Why on earth was she standing there smiling like that for? Well, not that either of them minded. But still.

"Sorry, don't let me interrupt," she said, hurriedly making her way towards the door before even finishing off her sentence.

"Oi, Temari."

Shikadai whipped his head toward Shikamaru just as Temari stopped in her tracks and did the same, slight confusion clearly written on her face. "What is it?"

He stroked the back of his neck out of habit, clearing his throat before he spoke. "Do you… want to join us?"

"What?" Shikadai and Temari both said in unison, mistakable for a gasp almost due to the intensity of disbelief in their voices.

"Well, you said you wanted a rematch after out last shogi match together, didn't you?" he clarified, still looking away from her.

Her dumbfounded expression was much,  _much_  more exaggerated now, completely abandoning all attempts to appear nonchalant. She stared at his profile and watched his eyes scan the board only briefly before finally glancing up at hers. Then, as if on cue, she spoke. "Yeah… I'd… I'd like that." She then awkwardly jabbed a thumb behind her, indicating to the door. "Let me… let me go wash up real quick and get into something more comfortable, and I'll… be right back, alright?"

Shikamaru smiled, and nodded once. "Sounds good."

She slowly nodded back, unable to help the broadening grin that spread across her face. She then quickly turned around once clear to her that biting on her lower lip wouldn't be enough to restrain it, and walked straight through the door of the house, dare say it, eagerly. Shikadai had a feeling that his mom wouldn't take very long. He caught his dad staring in her direction with that unsettling smile on his face again, completely ignoring the fact that he was currently in a compromised position in the game.

It was unquestionable. They were both still so gross. But… he didn't mind it so much this time. Just like he didn't mind that his dad had somehow managed to get the checkmate just three moves later anyway, nor did he mind that there was probably an equally as ridiculous looking smile on his own face.

* * *

"Don't buy it."

"Me neither."

"I'm serious," Temari gargled through a large mouthful of egg, "on my way back from the meeting, I saw it."

Both Naras looked skeptically at each other, then back at her.

"Don't buy it," repeated Shikamaru.

"Me neither," Shikadai followed quickly.

She harshly gulped down the food in her mouth. "I'm telling the truth! Ino had her arms round the pale guy's and held on for dear life, practically dragging him into some fancy restaurant." She stabbed another boiled egg with her chopsticks and took an inelegant bite from it. "He had that disturbing smile on his face the entire time, too."

Shikamaru looked at her, still somewhat unconvinced. "So Ino and Sai."

"Mh-hm."

"On a date."

"Unless you have any other suggestions as to what they were doing."

"No, no, I'm not doubting that, it's just… that was fast.  _Too_  fast."

She shrugged. "Didn't look as if he had much say in it."

"I'm skeptical if he even knows what a date is."

The two laughed briefly. Shikadai must've missed his cue though. He quite liked Uncle Sai. Blunt at times, but his heart was in the right place. Probably just another example of how drastically times had changed.

At moments like this though, where he was out of the loop, he'd just sit back and silently watch his parents interact. To put it simply, the dynamic of their relationship was just utterly absurd. Nonsensical. Now, Shikadai's experience in this sort of stuff was limited, or more accurately non-existent, but even he knew no relationship should consist of this amount of teasing and mocking and sometimes downright insulting. Even now, as she recovered traces of dinner from between her teeth and flicked them in his general direction despite his protests, he knew the way Mom's face lit up as she continued to rile him on was sincere, just as he knew Dad's frustration as he swatted her away with his chopsticks... well, wasn't.

The two  _should_  be incompatible, like oil and water, and yet still, they mixed effortlessly. As generic as that sounds.

Mom had joined the two of them not long after she'd left to change.  _Too_  soon, perhaps even. Nevertheless, the three went on to engage in wars of shogi. There were rematches and grudge matches and handicap matches. Harsh rules were enforced to favor Shikadai and his mom, such as limiting the time to make a move to just 5 seconds, and despite that, every single time, there was always one constant victor. They hadn't just played shogi while out here. The three had talked, for hours and hours and hours, distributing whatever stories came to mind. They had lunch here. They had dinner here. They laughed. A lot. Maybe even too much. Shikadai feared the consequences he'd have to suffer the morning after, already feeling his jaw stiffening and an irritating, stinging sensation every time he swayed it side-to-side.

And if he could go back in time again, he'd do it all over.

"Shikadai, be a dear and take my plate back inside for me," Temari said, dropping her plate onto his own empty one before he could even think about protesting.

"Mine too," Shikamaru said, doing the same. "Oh, and this cup."

Alright, he took it back; maybe he wouldn't do it all over. Shikadai carefully stood and trudged back into the house, making sure the stack in his hands didn't topple over.

The two briefly exchanged devious smirks at each other. He looked away and up at the sky, trying to locate the moon or any familiar constellations. Temari put her chin on her palm and bit on to the nail of her pinky finger, settling with staring at him. He glanced back at her, giving a quick once-over of her face.

"What?"

"You really impressed me today," she admitted.

"Thanks," he said. "Been meaning to try that move for a while now."

"I wasn't talking about shogi," she deadpanned.

"Then?"

She sighed and got up, straightening out her clothes slightly. "I'll tell you about it later."

"It's pretty late, in case you haven't already noticed," he said, extending his hand out and slowly gesturing to the dark environment. "When exactly is later?"

She rolled her eyes. "Later in bed of course, genius."

Oh. Right. Sharing the bed. He'd completely forgotten about that.

She stopped by the door and looked back. "Are you... are you coming?" she asked, almost... hesitantly.

His hand wondered over to the same spot on the back of his neck again, looking down to where his other hand was fidgeting in his lap. "Yeah," he said, just as hesitantly, "I'll... be there in a couple minutes."

He missed the radiating smile on her face in response.

He looked back up and, almost involuntarily, smiled to himself also, watching her figure retreating into the house.

And then he heard a clearing throat in acknowledgement. Shikamaru quickly thrust his head round in panic.

"S-Sensei?"

He too was smiling, as much as his mouth would allow with a cigarette in it.

"The two of you sharing a bed, huh?"

He was relieved the darkness had obscured most of his flustered state. "Wh... what are you, no,  _when_  did you even get here?"

"About two minutes ago. I even called your name, but you both just kept staring at each other,  _lost_  in each others eyes and—"

"Alright, I get it.  _Why_  are you here?" Shikamaru all but growled.

Asuma chuckled. "Relax. Just came here to remind you about the briefing tomorrow."

"Early start, I know, I know," said Shikamaru, raising his hands in defense.

He nodded, and said, "That's right. There's going to be lots of important people there." He then took the cigarette out his mouth and exhaled. "So make sure you don't oversleep again or anything."

"Geez, let it go already; that was one time," Shikamaru mumbled with his head inclined forward.

"Twice, actually," Asuma clarified, putting the cigarette back in his mouth and shoving his hands in his pockets. He walked towards the shogi board and took a step onto the porch. "Onigoroshi?"

Shikamaru proudly smirked, shoving his own hands in his pockets. "Glad someone appreciates it."

"I remember your dad using it on me one time before," said Asuma, crouching down to closer inspect the board.

"You too, huh?"

Asuma chuckled as he picked up a piece and let it rest in his palm. "Have you… figured out who the 'King' is yet?" He stood back up and tossed it at Shikamaru, who then caught it and began inspecting it himself. It read: King.

He shook his head slow. "Guessing you still aren't going to tell me?"

"You'll get it in time," Asuma reassured, already leaping off the porch and walking away from the property. He then stopping and turned his head to the side. "Perhaps even sooner than you think."

Shikamaru tried again to interpret his words as he absently watched Asuma drop the cigarette to the floor, putting it out with the heel of his footwear. And then his eyes widened.

"Oi, Mom'll lose it if she sees that."

"Right, my bad." He punted the flattened cigarette into the grass. "Get some rest, Shikamaru."

With a half-hearted wave, he responded, "Later, Sensei," and began walking towards the door.

"I mean it, by the way," Asuma hollered with a hand by his mouth, turning around and treading backwards. "Don't stay up all night with her!"

Alright. Last straw.

"Tell Kurenai Sensei I said, 'hey,'" Shikamaru hollered back, a hint of smugness for the occasion.

"Wh-wh—, I, h-h-how did you—?!"

The door had already slammed shut. With a ruffle of his hair and a groan in confusion, Asuma turned back around, searching himself frantically for his cigarette pack and lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a little while, eh? Went to back to uni just a couple weeks ago, so I've been struggling to find both the time and brain power to even think about this fic, let alone getting to writing it. I'll try and update as soon as I can, but please forgive me if they're pretty late from here on. It's gonna be a pretty hectic year. :|
> 
> Quick explanation for the first scene. When I first thought of the fic, one of the main things I really wanted to focus on was Naruto's treatment before the Pain invasion. And Hiashi sort of came across as a bit of an asshole in Part I, so I thought, meh, he'd be a decent person to help highlight that. Also wanted to highlight the apparent weak relationship both Hiashi and Hinata had, at least early on in the series.
> 
> Enjoy! :D


	12. Lost

"Not a word," Temari deadpanned.

He shook his head and snickered. "Not your best look."

"Zip it," she quickly followed, strenuously pushing down her hair once. Shikamaru looked away, stifling a laugh at the little difference made. She clearly hadn't bothered to restrain it into something more presentable this time around, her hair disheveled, scruffy, and quite honestly resembling a tumbleweed. Oh, he was definitely using that one next time.

"Do you have any idea how much time and effort went into getting my hair to look like it did last night? And even _that_  in itself was a spectacle. So, I thought, you may as well see it in its natural state and get it out your system already, because I am  _not_  doing that every night."

Every night, he repeated in his head, reaffirming his thoughts that this  _was_  to be a reoccurring thing. Whatever this exactly was.

"I think we have some stuff here in the village which could probably help with that," he said.

"You think I haven't tried them already?"

"Oh?"

She wagged a hand, reassuring him that it wasn't on her own accord. "Ino."

"Oh."

"Mm-hm." She sat down onto the bed with her back to him. "I make one throwaway comment about my hair, and the next thing I know I'm carrying around a bag almost twice as big as the one I travel with, just _full_  of hair-related products."

"So  _that's_ what you were carrying around with you that one time?"

She paused, then snapped her fingers. "That's the one." The two shared a laugh at the memory. "To give her credit though, some of that stuff _did_  actually work. Well, for about an hour or so, then it'd quickly revert right back to  _this_ ," she said, turning to face him and flicking her hair in what was her best Ino impression.

He chuckled approvingly, turning back away. "You're getting scarily good at that." He tilted his head to the side and pulled his hair tie out, his dark hair uncoiling and slowly falling to his shoulders. Her eyes stayed on him the entire time.

"Look at me."

He turned to look back at her, away briefly at the light of the candle, then abruptly at her again, usually calm eyes now widened in confusion. She was staring at him, nibbling on her lower lip and studying each and every one of his features so intently. His eyebrow raised just as her head did slightly to better examine him, not at anything specifically, but  _him_ , at his entire image, before eventually meeting his eyes. She neared her face ever so slightly, and he found himself struggling to look away.

And then she snorted. "Not your best look."

Being awarded with that childish pout of his made her dishonesty  _so_  worth it in the end. He crashed his head down onto his pillow, pointlessly mumbling a justification for his own altered appearance, but she could hardly hear it through her bouts of laughter. Temari pulled back her chaotic hair as she neared the candle and provided enough breath to put out the flame, then lay down beside him, arms just short of touching. That's when she'd noticed it, her lips curled and both its corners quirked upwards.

She was smiling. Regardless of how hard she'd try to suppress it with the purse of her lips, her hold would shortly break free and the smile would grow even bigger. She was  _happy_. The happiest she'd been since, well, since probably her last visit to here in Konoha. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help the broadening smile on her face, the way her every tooth was exposed and presented itself to the ceiling above. She wasn't even particularly sure  _why_  she was in such a good mood.

Actually, that was a lie. A complete and utter dishonest, insincere, fraudulent lie. She knew that smile first surfaced when the three of them had spent the entire day playing and laughing together. No, it was before that, right after she'd got back from her meeting, when he'd invited her to accompany the two of them. No, even before  _that_ , when she saw him and Shikadai out on the porch, sitting across from each other with a shogi board between them.

"Thank you," she said abruptly.

He scoffed. "Geez, you're still not over it? I don't look  _that_ weird with it down."

Trust him to also be the one to have her instantly lose said smile.

"Not that, idiot." She turned to her side and faced him, a hand pressed between the pillow and her ear. "For what you did today."

"Ah, right," he said, then falling silent for a moment. "What was that again?"

She stifled a sigh. Happy thoughts, she told herself. "For Shikadai."

This was enough to motivate him in raising an eyebrow. "You mean playing shogi with him?"

"It's more than just that," Temari clarified close to his ear. "Didn't you see it? In his eyes? It was like, there was sort of peace in them, or just… just  _something_  that was missing before, as if that something was lost for a while—until today, that is. Surely you saw it also? How happy and comfortable he was out there today? It's because of what you did. You made an effort.  _For him_."

He shook his head. "You don't have to thank me for that."

"No, Shikamaru, I do," she insisted. "It's… not like I doubted that you'd do it or anything like that, but, I guess, I didn't expect you to do it so soon. After what I told you yesterday, it… it means more to me than you probably think."

She  _heard_  him smirk, and she'd heard that infuriating sound enough times already to know that a ridiculous comment would shortly follow.

"I mean it, Temari. I only did it because I wanted to play shogi, and he was the only one free."

She fell silent, then promptly drew her head back in disgust.

"Unbelievable, Nara," she growled, assaulting him using the back of her hand—not hard enough to have any real impact. Not yet, anyway.

He snickered loud for her to hear, raising his hands up to defend against her attack. "Oi, I'm kidding—I'm kidding, easy. I admit, poor timing on my part. I stuck around even after the shogi, didn't I?

"I thought about what you said yesterday," he continued, "and it made me think of my own relationship with my dad." He shifted a little behind the covers. "It's… it's strange, really. He usually just leaves me be to do my own thing, always insisting that it's best for me to figure things out for myself. But every now and again, maybe over a game of shogi, he'd give me some pretty thoughtful advice. It'd be cryptic and it wouldn't really make a whole lot of sense at the time, but it'd always get me thinking, which I'm sure was the intention.

"I guess what I'm trying to say here is that… I like it, the dynamic me and my old man have. I want something like that with my kid, I think. Where he can rely on me for support when he needs it, to pick him up and dust him off if he stumbles, guide him if he's lost, that sort of thing. I mean, I guess I don't have to do all of that over a game of shogi, but I'd certainly prefer it."

She rolled her eyes. "So you could end it on a checkmate, right?"

"Like I did against you today?"

"Ha ha," she drawled. "Try not to ruin the moment, Nara."

"Right, sorry."

"I wonder what my brothers will make of this whole thing." She blew on the loose, tangled strands of hair over her face, then groaned. "I can already hear Kankurō's incessant mocking over me being a mother ringing through my head, as if I wasn't already babying the utter fool himself."

He fell silent. Nothing. Not a sound. Not a hum or a scoff or a kiss of his teeth. No acknowledgment that he heard her. Not even a "troublesome." It was unlike him to just end it like that without some sort of response, and she  _knew_  he only ever did it when unsettled by something. She knew that something was troubling him internally.

"What's wrong?" she asked with more concern in her voice than she perhaps intended for. "You know I don't like it when you bottle yourself up like that."

Silence again, and that was all the validation Temari needed. "Tell me," she demanded, the firmness of her delivery entirely intentional this time.

"You're… leaving tomorrow, aren't you?" he quietly asked. "To head back to your village?"

 _Oh_.

That was right.

She was a shinobi of Sunagakure. Her loyalty, her  _allegiance_  was to the Sand. She was a visitor here; nothing less, and nothing more. Her mission required that she travel to Konoha, discuss the contents of the scrolls with the Hokage, stay a maximum of two nights, then promptly return to  _her_  village and resume her duties. She knew her stay here was to be brief and she knew this prior to agreeing to do the mission.

…So why?

Why did every fiber of her muscles stiffen at that? Why did her throat constrict and feel so heavy? Why did her lips part and her eyes widen and her body eject every bit of joy from it in an instant? What was so different about this visit that helped elicit such a response? Was it… the promise of a family? The comfort she found in one?

But she already  _had_  a family. Her and Gaara and Kankurō. It was always the three of them. It was always supposed to be  _just_  the three of them. Watching over her village and seeing it prosper in their authority. Watching over  _them_. Seeing the two grow and flourish into the excellent shinobi she knew they'd become. She swore to herself that she'd never abandon them. Not like before. She swore to herself that she'd always be standing beside them, in the office or in conflict. So then  _why_?

Why did her heart completely shatter into pieces at the thought of leaving?

"Can't you… get the Fifth to extend your stay here?" Shikamaru suggested, calling her back from her chaotic reverie.

She forced a smile. "You ask me this on every last day… you know already that she won't be able to grant that."

He sighed. It was worth a shot. "I know."

"Look after him while I'm gone, Shikamaru."

He recognized what that low tone meant. He lifted himself up slightly, propping his cheek in the palm of his right hand, making sure it didn't cover his ear. He had to listen, and carefully.

"Make sure he eats properly. I don't understand how you're as thin as you are seeing as your mother has been bordering on overfeeding him these past two days."

An eyebrow threatened to raise, again, but he hummed anyway, waiting to see where she was going with this.

"And make sure he gets some training in. I've heard one too many 'troublesomes' out of that boy today already, and I'll damned if our child takes life as easily as you do."

Another short hum in response, bordering on grunt.

"But he's still a little beat up from yesterday, so don't let him overwork himself. Allow his body some time to recover, or he'll be at risk of reopening his wounds."

"Temari."

"Oh, and speaking of which, make sure to run him a bath tomorrow with plenty of disinfectant, or else his wounds will—"

"Temari," he tried again, pulling on her shoulder slightly. "Don't worry. He'll be here with me, and Mom and Dad, too. Look, I know… I know I'm probably not the  _most_  motivated guy in the world, but… I mean it when I say I'm serious about this."

She nodded slowly, pressing the anterior part of her face against the pillow. "Protect him… from whatever it is that's after him. I didn't think the sight of him on the hospital bed would haunt me as much as it did. I don't ever want to have to see that again."

"I will."

The two lay there in silence for a minute. After a moment, she said, "And stay safe in your mission tomorrow," her tone soft and yet hesitant. "No slacking off, not even for a second, got it?"

"Understood," he reassured her, feeling heavy lids on the verge of descending.

"Good," she said. "Am I right in saying that you won't be able to accompany me to the gates this time?"

"Mm. It's troublesome, but I'll have to get up even earlier than you tomorrow."

"I see," she sighed, not even bothering to mask the disappointment in her voice. "That's a first, isn't it? Not seeing me off?"

"I think it might be, actually," he said, giving it some thought. "I'm sure I've always been the one to do it. Perhaps… Shikadai could take you there?"

And what was the first time in quite a while, a genuine smile broke out across her face. "Hey, not a bad substitute, actually," she said. "Arguably even better, perhaps."

"Oi, try not to ruin the moment." She laughed.

* * *

Boruto groaned as he reached out for the milk carton and grabbed a hold of it. He groaned again, louder, recognizing that it was pretty much empty. He groaned once more for no particular reason, the most exaggerated one yet, then winced and grabbed the side of his head, regretting that last one. Another night of poor sleep was taking its toll on him. Fast.

"Boruto!"

 _Great_ , he droned to himself, slouching harder into his seat.  _Nice going, Boruto._

Uncle Neji burst through the door, searching the room frantically with his Byakugan. "What's the matter?" he asked, concerned. "Did something happen? Are you hurt?" He glanced at Boruto's arm. "I see. Here, allow me to feed you—"

" _No_! No, just…" Boruto closed his eyes and blew out a breath, trying to compose himself. "I'm fine, Uncle Neji, I'm fine. I promise. Nothing's wrong, I'm not hurt, and no, I  _don't_  need feeding." He took a bite of the egg to prove a point. He wasn't going to mention its awful texture or that it was likely undercooked. "See?" he mumbled, refusing to chew and swallow.

He just stared, much to Boruto's overwhelming discomfort. "Do you require anything?" He looked down at Boruto's… attempt at breakfast. "Shall I prepare you another batch?"

Boruto quickly shook his head no.

Neji looked at him carefully—unconvinced? Boruto couldn't tell through the stoic demeanor, and frankly, he couldn't care either. He just wanted to eject the egg-y goo out of his mouth already.

"Are you certain?"

He nodded. Confidently.

"I understand," Neji said, finally. "If you need my assistance, feel free to simply call out for me."

A response of "I will" was no longer within the realms of possibility, so he smiled instead, lips sealed incredibly tight, and gave a thumbs up for added effect.

Neji walked out the room, much slower than Boruto would've preferred, sliding the door shut behind him. A fraction of a second after he heard it make contact with the frame, Boruto quickly spat the substance out of his mouth as silently as he could. Hopefully he hadn't seen that through his Byakugan.

He liked Uncle Neji, he really did. But he was overprotective and would cater him for "emergencies" about as critical as a stubbed toe. Yes, this had in fact occurred.

He prodded at the other egg on his plate with his chopsticks, piercing the yolk with little effort and watching it deflate. Mom was always better at this stuff; he hadn't realized how much he'd taken advantage of it all. She was still locked up and stored away in that same room from before. Either she had everything she needed in there, or she'd schedule her infrequent escapes to coincide with when he probably wouldn't be there to see her. Dad wasn't here the morning after the incident—understandably, if not just slightly disappointing.

He'd really hoped to have seen Shikadai yesterday; Boruto was sure he would've come by to check up on him at least once. Though, it was likely he had to tend to his own family-related issues. Poor guy just can't get away from it.

Well, at least his hand was feeling a little better. Just a little. Certain movements with it were still off-limits, but it was functioning well enough for him to be able to near the bread to his mouth and take another bite from it. It was dry, cold, and could really use something to help wash it down better. Something… like…

Boruto almost groaned again, but thought better of it, settling with a sigh instead and squeezing the void carton in his hand.  _Milk_.

He chucked the carton across the room in the direction of the door, disregarding potential consequences. What, it's not like someone were to walk through it at that exact moment.

And of course, at that exact moment, the door pushed aside horizontally.

It was his gramps.

And the carton struck him square on the valley of his chest.

It fell unceremoniously to the floor, just short of colliding with his toes. He angled his head backwards, staring down expressionlessly at the obstruction in front of him.

Hiashi slowly crouched down, both hands sheering across his thighs until stopping at a knee with one and reaching for the carton with the other. He picked it up and stood straight again, examining it closer. He rocked it slightly, continuing to stare right at it with an intensity that had a heavy lump forming in Boruto's throat, making it almost difficult for him to breath.

And then he looked up. Either at him or in his direction, Boruto couldn't tell. He diverted his gaze elsewhere regardless, eyes downcast, but still watching his gramps carefully from the corners of them.

And then Hiashi moved forward, towards him, walking in that usual unhurried pace, and he could feel the heat beginning to develop at the pit of his arms. Why,  _why_  couldn't he have just disposed of it like any sensible person? He was then mere meters away, and it was at this moment Boruto had to will the bile back down into his stomach. Yards rapidly turned into feet and feet turned to inches until he was finally at the table by his side, and time froze. Boruto's eyes were or the verge of bugging out of his head, choosing to stare directly in front of him and  _refusing_  to acknowledge the man beside his shoulder. He held his breath, challenging the limits of survival without oxygen.

And then he wasn't there anymore.

The sound of footsteps weren't nearly as strong as they were just before. He dared to sneak a glance back, watching Gramps walk towards a container at the back of the room, carton in hand, arching his back only slightly as he disposed of it. Boruto immediately turned back around and faced forward the moment his gramps' spine straightened out.

The footsteps grew louder again; he was by his side once more, then away from him, continuing to walk forward towards the door. He stood in front of it and opened it enough to comfortably fit through the opening, then walked out of the room, gently sliding the door shut behind him.

And once he heard it make contact with the frame again, Boruto immediately suctioned in a long, generous breath of air, expelling it slowly out through his nose. God, did he miss doing that. He ran his fingers through his hair and grabbed handfuls of it in twin fists, head leaning forward and still ringing with pain.

Alright. He had to get out of here.  _Now_.

"Uncle Neji!"

* * *

Uncle Neji did what he usually did during these brief walks, summarizing the significance and historical context of each little building or stall they passed, the occasional retelling of relevant stories involving him and his peers. Boruto did what  _he_  usually did during it—not listen. But, for good reason this time, he told himself. He had to memorize the route to Shikadai's place, a nagging voice in his head telling him he'd be needing it to make the journey often. He blamed this voice for drowning out Uncle Neji's.

The trees surrounding them were beginning to grow quickly in numbers; they were near, that much at least hadn't changed. The petty, bitter side of him felt a little betrayed that Shikadai hadn't stopped by once yesterday, but the more reasonable side recognized that he himself hadn't exactly made the effort either, and that Shikadai had enough on his plate, and probably more to fill another plate with, to take care of. Poor guy. Seemed to be having it rough whatever timeline he was stuck in. With parents like his whose personalities clash as often and as violently as theirs do, well, it was bound to be a reoccurring thing.

But, that's where he came in. The sympathetic shoulder to cry on—not that Shikadai ever cried. Or had interacted with his shoulder in any capacity. Except for that one time Shikadai had dislocated it playing ninja with each other as kids. Though that was neither here nor there, what mattered was that as his good buddy, it was his job to grab his head anyway, shush the protests and hurling abuse, and press it down right here, on his shoulder.

"Boruto? Is something the matter?" Neji asked, concerned. Again. "Is it your shoulder? Here, allow me to have a look at it—"

"What? No! I just—" Boruto sighed, suppressing the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. "…It was… just a bug. I got it. C'mon." He continued without waiting for a response.

Alright, so the shoulder thing may have been a slightly idealistic scenario; he wasn't  _that_  good-natured, nor was he quite willing to find out what Shikadai would do to him had he actually tried that. But he'd be there, to listen. To nod his head and absorb all of the information. To put himself in Shikadai's shoes and go from there. To ask him why he looked like he was enjoying himself playing shogi with his family.

Wait a minute.

Shikadai was sitting on the porch of the house, playing shogi with someone whose likeness was remarkably like his, and a woman he also wasn't familiar with spectating their match from the side.

He didn't look upset. At all. He sure as hell didn't look like someone who needed a shoulder lent to him. Or, at least, it seemed like he already had people to do that for him. He... hadn't even noticed him yet, so completely immersed into the game that he couldn't even spare a glance.

"Yo, Shikadai."

He reacted belatedly, turning his head only a little. Realization, and then surprise. "Oh, Boruto. Yo."

 _Oh, Boruto?_  Really? That's it? That's the extent of his greeting?

"We didn't see each other yesterday," Boruto reminded him, "so, I thought I'd pay you a visit, check up on you, you know."

Another late response. "Ah."

Boruto's eye twitched. "So... I thought, maybe we could get some training in today. You know, light sparring, lateral movement, that sort of stuff."

The guy across from him, who could easily pass as Shikadai's dad in this timeline, put a tile down.

"Troublesome!" Shikadai barked suddenly.

"Unlucky, dear," the lady said. "Maybe you'll get him the next game."

"Dad did that exact move yesterday; I should've seen it coming miles ahead."

"Of course my son would try to use it on anybody else but me," the man facing him chuckled. "It's called—"

"Onigoroshi, I know. He'd made it abundantly clear yesterday."

"Oh he has, has he? Well, has he told you how to counter it?"

Shikadai's face lit up. "Must've slipped his mind."

The man laughed. "Well, let's wind it back a bit," he reshuffled a few of the pieces, "...to here. Instead of positioning the knight here, it'd be wiser to instead put it down over he—"

Boruto coughed loud and obnoxiously into his fist, reminding the small group of his presence. "So, Shikadai,  _buddy_ , about that training..."

Shikadai looked back up, startled almost. The runt  _had_  actually forgotten about him!

"Ah, right, my bad," he said, reaching for the back of his neck. "I... probably... won't have time for that today."

"...What do you mean?" Boruto asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Well..." He looked away nervously. "Dad supposedly said something about a shogi match after he got back from his mission, so I asked Grandpa for a few pointers in preparations for it. Oh, and Mom mentioned needing to take me somewhere later on. After that's done, Grandma over here asked for me to help out around the house and with tending the deer. It's all troublesome, really."

Boruto picked up how insincere that last part sounded, but opted out from saying anything, instead settling with a quiet, "Oh."

The door to the house opened wide, prompting everybody to turn and look back. It was Shikadai's mom, that giant fan behind her and a small bag strapped securely around her shoulder.

"Right on cue, sort of," Shikadai said as he stood, tugging on the tight shirt he was wearing which clearly wasn't his. "Now?"

She nodded, smiling, and Boruto picked up the insincerity of that, too. She walked towards Shikadai's grandparents—so that's who they were—and bowed slightly, a silent gesture that was delicately reciprocated by the two, then walked towards the entrance, sparing just a brief glance at himself and Uncle Neji before continuing on with her eyes in front of her, Shikadai following closely behind.

He then stopped in front of Boruto, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Hey, sorry about... I mean, we could... we could do that training tomorrow, right?"

Boruto fell silent, shoving his own hands in his pockets.

"Yeah... yeah, no, you're right. We could do that, tomorrow. No problem. Hey," he lowered his voice, "I don't want you getting into it with your mom. You should catch up." He smiled his usual toothy smile, and Boruto couldn't quite deny the insincerity of that one, also.

Shikadai nodded once and chased after her, their shoulders grazing, leaving him with his head slightly hung forward.

"Come," Neji said, gently putting a hand on Boruto's shoulder. "I'll take us back. We could train at the compound, if you wish."

Boruto turned around and sighed. "Sure." He walked just a few, hesitant steps forward before stopping and looking up at Neji.

"Hey... do you know where Dad is right now?"

* * *

"The shirt's a good look on you, you know."

"It's uncomfortable, honestly," said Shikadai, readjusting his mesh shirt. "I think Grandma said this used to be one of Dad's."

She nodded. "Mm-hm. Use to wear a silly little jacket on top of it." She did that special smile again.

"Hey, Mom?"

"Mm?"

"I've been meaning to ask you this," said Shikadai. "Back at the Hokage's office, when I revealed myself as yours and Dad's son. Your reaction to it, it was... pretty tame. A lot calmer than I thought it would be. It was sorta like you knew it was coming. Why is that?"

Mom smirked, looking down at him without tilting her head. "That's because I did."

"Huh? How?" Two fingers abruptly neared his eyes, forcing Shikadai to lean back and blink reflexively, and for a brief second he entertained the idea of his eyes being gouged out.

"Those," she said, her fingers still lingering there for a moment before drawing her hand back. "When I first laid my eyes on you, that time when you fell on your head out in the middle of nowhere, I really thought you were your father. But then, leaning in closer, seeing how much younger you were, those eyes..."

"You knew from then?"

"Not quite. I still didn't think much of it, not until the Hokage office debacle was I able to piece it together well enough. It still threw me off, for what it's worth.

"Oh, and, you know," she said, the playful tone in her voice evident, and Shikadai braced himself. "You  _did_  sorta call me 'Mom' right away, didn't you?"

He looked away, cheeks visibly flushed a shade of red, and she snorted hearing him mutter troublesome repeatedly to himself. As if  _he_  was here with them.

She stopped suddenly, or at least, it appeared that way to Shikadai; he was so engaged in their conversation that he'd barely been paying attention to where they were headed.

"These walks always felt so short..." And it seemed as if it had that same effect on her, too.

Only then did the large, towering gates of the entrance capture his attention, and now was he completely aware of his surroundings. "Why are we here?" he asked, and then he caught sight of it—the makeshift rucksack over her shoulder. Had that always been there?

"Where are you going?"

She was staring into the distance, her hard back to him. He couldn't see her face.

"Home."

A pause. Tense silence. "...What?"

She finally turned around, her face devoid of any expression. "Back home. To my village."

More deafening silence. Then his eyes narrowed, dangerously. " _This_  is your home."

Her eyes widened ever so subtly, but she held her ground, shaking her head with confidence. "The documents disagree."

Then it struck him, as if he'd been standing in the path of something powerful, immovable, like a train. The thoughts and memories during  _that_  incident rushing back to him at full-force. His dad broken, lost, confused, demanding she leave for her village, his mom vilified, desperate, willing of his request. Him standing there, worthless, unable to make a damn difference. He had to stop her. If he couldn't do it now, what chance would he have when it mattered most?

"You can't." Finality. No room for argument.

Her voice was stern. Challenging him. "I have to."

"The Hokage will figure something out. I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

"I've tried that before," she said. "It won't work." An unintentional slip-up. A breach in her defenses. Now capitalize.

"But it's different this time, you know that. Uncle Gaara surely wouldn't object."

She broke first, mouth agape, head turned and facing down. An opening.

"Dad needs you." Cold, calculated, manipulative. Effective. She stiffened, closing her eyes shut and clenching her fists. "Stop, Shikadai..." Check.

"I need you."

"Stop, Shikadai,  ** _stop it_**!" The board was thrown aside, pieces scattering everywhere. "Please,  _please_ , just... don't make this any harder."

He hated it. Seeing her like this. It reminded him of  _that_. But he was desperate. So he stood without protesting further, waiting to deliver a simple, feeble, "Why?"

His voice broke. He hadn't meant for it to. He certainly hadn't meant for her to look back at him with wet eyes and walk towards him, crouching down and desperately grabbing a hold of his shoulders, pulling him to her.

"Just let me think this through, okay? To reflect. To know where I belong..." she gestured with her hand behind his back, "...in all of this. Just give me time, alright? I promise, I'll have an answer for you soon."

"How soon?" She simply pressed harder.

He wasn't much of a hugger; his hands didn't embrace back, but he cherished the closeness and the tight hold she had on him, convincing him that maybe she wouldn't let go. And then she did.

"You've already noticed your clansmen following us, haven't you?" she asked, sparing a not-so-subtle glance at the distant figures, to which he nodded. "Then go back home, they'll make sure you get there safely. It was selfish of me to have brought you all the way out here at a time like this."

She made brief, pointless adjustments to his shirt, his hair and his pouches—a delay tactic, quietly whispering, "Just wait for me," before spinning on her heels and making her escape, running as fast as her feet would allow her.

He waited until she was out of sight. She didn't look back once. He kept watching until a raindrop struck him on the tip of his nose. Then, on his shoulder, the back of his neck, until he was being pelted everywhere by a barrage of rainwater. He turned around, hands in his pockets, walking back home just like she told him to.

He walked, absent-minded, watching people scattering out of the rain and searching desperately for shelter. He was aware of the consequences should he not do the same himself, and yet, he couldn't find it in him to care.

The streets were soon completely empty, stalls covered up and abandoned. He'd already lost sight of where his people were. He took an alternate, longer path to his home—his dad's home, rather. That place wasn't  _his_  home. Not without her.

He stopped in his tracks, noticing a group of people in the distance all huddled together, nearing. Familiar.

He hadn't recognized his dad first; Aunt Ino's illuminating hair drew his attention instead, tears across her face that were clearly distinguishable from the rainwater. He saw Uncle Chōji next, repeatedly trying to compose himself, and with less success with every attempt, furiously rubbing his eyes to no avail. He saw Dad, a cigarette loosely balancing between his lips, unlit from the rain. Broken. Lost. Confused. Just like he was then. He saw what appeared to be a casualty being carried on a stretcher in front of them, the entirety of the victim's face and most of their body covered with a black sheet. He saw a metallic object, no, two, on top of the sheet where the person's unmoving chest was, or at least whatever the remnants of it were.

And then his heart broke into a million pieces.

_Are those... Mirai's blades?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 300+ kudos!!! :D


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